Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun
by Lord umbrex
Summary: AU past OP-After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to survive his final years in Hogwarts and live his new life around people he knows will become Death Eaters. Can he beat his prejudices and give people a chance, or will he crumble under the pressure?
1. The News is Always Bad

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: If you are new to my writing, you'll see that I like to take things slowly in the beginning, with short and concise chapters to get things started. The chapters will lengthen with time, of course, just like in my previous stories. Also, this story itself won't be nearly as long as my last Harry Potter story, and there will be time skips from chapter to chapter be it days, weeks, or a month at a time. My aim is to have the story completed within twenty-five chapters.

S/N 2: Either way, I hope you enjoy this! Review and tell me what you think!

Chapter 1: The News is Always Bad

It was a hot summer afternoon that found fifteen year old Harry Potter sitting in his room inside the house of number 4 Privet Drive, reading through the Daily Prophet as his white snowy owl Hedwig hooted softly in her cage. As he finished up the page he was reading, he looked over to her with a smile and then jumped up from his bed, grabbed an owl treat, and gently pushed it through the iron cage bars, allowing the female owl to nibble on the cookie-like treat in his hand. "Sorry I can't let you out, girl," He said, as his eyes drifted over to the window, and then immediately to the street below, where he saw the petunia bushes across the street bristle, though there was no wind of which to speak. Trying to get a better look at the environs below, his eyes squinted through his glasses at the shrubs, and with maximum effort, he could just barely make out the silhouette of a figure. Without the need to ponder or guess, he instantly knew who it was: Nymphadora Tonks.

Over the last few weeks and ever since he had left Hogwarts for summer holiday, Tonks had been his primary sentinel sent from the Order of the Phoenix, protecting him from any and all of the dangers that Voldemort and his Death Eaters represented. She stood guard for hours, most of the time staying outside, hidden by the Disillusionment Charm, but sometimes secretly coming into the house to visit him. Unlike most of his other guards, such as Emmeline Vance or Kingsley Shacklebolt, she knew that Harry needed to talk to someone, and instead of being silent and protecting him from outside forces like she was told to do by the Order, she sneaked into his room to protect him from the internal force of depression that she knew was consuming him deep down inside. While it was a simple act on Tonks' part, Harry was extremely thankful for it because he knew that if she didn't talk to him, he would have been driven mad, and as a result, would have probably ran off and done something stupid as he usually did in other like situations.

While many did not know or just overlooked it, the truth of the matter was that he was grieving and Tonks was there to help him through the process. She knew that it had only been three weeks since his godfather and her own cousin, Sirius Black, had died that night in the Ministry of Magic. What she didn't know, however, was that every night he would dream about the duel that Sirius had with his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, and every night he'd wake up in a cold sweat at the sound of her cackle—her harsh, cruel cackle, taunting him, stringing him along as he chased her through the halls of the Ministry. The laugh, which was so high pitched that it made him shiver to the bone in an instant, was etched into his mind, into his memories, into his subconscious. Every time he blinked, he saw Sirius and Bellatrix battling, he saw Sirius get hit with the red curse that sent him through the veil, which was a sight that infused him with both undeniable sadness at the thought of Sirius' death and unbridled anger at the thought of Bellatrix killing him. But then, those thoughts quickly turned into regret, with Harry knowing that it was his fault that all of it happened. If he had only just listened, instead of running off, perhaps, perhaps Sirius would still be alive and would be around to help him out with the other thing that sat heavy on his mind.

Unbeknownst to anyone other than he and Dumbledore, it had also been three weeks since he first found out the existence of that cursed prophecy about him and Voldemort, a prophecy that seemed to be the cause of all of his troubles in life. After all, his parents died protecting him from Voldemort because of it; his godfather died trying to protect him, after he foolishly went to the Ministry in a plot concocted by Voldemort in order to get his hands on the prophecy; it was the reason why he was sent to his miserable aunt and uncle to live with as a child; it was the reason why he had to be protected by the entire Order, with all the members risking their own lives for his. He still didn't know how he felt about it, even with it being on his mind nearly every minute of every day since he had been told of it by Dumbledore. What kind of powers unknown did he possess that Voldemort didn't? Voldemort was, unfortunately, a very powerful wizard in his own right, and all Harry was, was a student going into his sixth year at Hogwarts, barely making his way through the classes.

On top of all of that, he was also very worried about what was happening in the outside world while he was held up in the safety of his aunt and uncle's house like a coward. Even though he couldn't gather much information while in the confines of Privet Drive, he perused the Daily and Nightly Prophet everyday and night, searching for whatever information that the paper had about the Dark Lord. While he was thrilled that the rest of the country had finally understood that the Dark Lord really was back, he couldn't help but roll his eyes when they anointed him the Chosen One, the wizard who would finally defeat Voldemort once and for all. Just a few weeks ago they were cursing him as a liar and a scammer, a grifter who was trying to bamboozle the public, a wizard who was just trying to keep and enhance his fame, but now they wanted him to come and help them? Instead of being the Boy Who Lies, he was now back to being the Boy Who Lives, a moniker that he couldn't help but feel disgusted about because it reminded him of the horrible deaths of his parents.

With a sigh, he sat back down on his bed, pulling a Defense Against the Dark Arts book onto his lap to read. He knew that, if he was to stand a chance against Voldemort, he would really need to apply himself to learning, something that he admittedly hadn't done during his first five years in the wizarding world. It wasn't that he was lazy or averse to applying himself to school work; it was more that he didn't want to be like Hermione, boggled down by books and learning, instead of having fun—though he knew that he was more like Ron, which wasn't good either. He slowly flipped through a couple of pages, reading about anti-jinxes, every so often making a movement with his hand to mimic the wand motions needed in order to cast the anti-jinx he was reading about at the moment. He continued to read throughout the rest of the night, and before he knew it, he was fast asleep with the book lying open on top of his chest.

It was around ten o'clock in the morning when he awoke the next day. With sleep still in his eyes, he stifled a yawn as he quietly went into the bathroom down the hall and took a shower, and then dressed and readied himself for the day. After he was finished, he went right back into his room, not wanting to disturb his aunt and uncle who had been relatively pleasant so far, altogether ignoring his presence entirely. As he finished drying his hair with his towel, there was a tapping on the window so he went over to the ledge, threw open the glass and allowed the carrier owl to hop into his room. He took the piece of parchment that was wrapped around the bird's leg and gave the owl an owl treat, before watching as it flew off into the distance, presumably back to its owner. He unrolled the parchment and scanned what it had to say, his breath hitching in his chest as he read through the neatly scripted words.

_Harry,_

_There was an attack last night; a few of the Order of the Phoenix members were killed, including Ron's brother Bill, and Tonks. I'll send you more information when I get it._

_Be safe,_

_Hermione_

_PS: Stay inside under all circumstances; it's for your best interest. _

As he finished reading, he couldn't help but rear back in shock at the proclamation that Tonks and Bill were both dead. He had just spoken with Tonks a few days before—they had been discussing Remus Lupin and how he was distant to everyone ever since the night Sirius had died. He suddenly felt queasy at the thought of both of them being killed, they were much too young to have been a casualty of the needless war—he knew that he had to stop Voldemort as quickly as possible, no matter the cost to himself. Only he could defeat the Dark Lord and there would be nothing or no one that would get in the way from accomplishing that goal, regardless of what it took or how hard he to work. No more of his friends and family would die because of Tom Riddle; no more people would have to suffer because of the darkness and evilness that Tom Riddle brought upon the world.

He stayed silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say, but then, wanting to distract himself and with great sadness in his heart, he spent the rest of the day reading through a spell book that he had never given back to Hermione after she had let him borrow it the previous summer. While he tried to concentrate on the book, his mind couldn't help but continue to drift off to Tonks and Bill, two people that he had considered friends, even family. It made him so angry that they had died because he couldn't do what he had to just yet, he couldn't destroy Voldemort—they were young, innocent, in the primes of their lives. Right there and then, he promised himself that no matter what, he would devote himself in destroying Voldemort, forsaking everything else for that one goal.

Devoting himself entirely to the cause, he spent the next week going through every spell book, every defense book, every charm book that he had in his trunk, wanting nothing more than to become the best wizard he could during the summer. While he knew that he had wasted time during his first few years at Hogwarts slacking off, he also knew that that was in the past, and whatever he did, he couldn't go back and become a student like Hermione. Instead, he focused on his plans for the coming school year, where he would spend more time in the library than out on the quidditch pitch, more time doing his homework than playing pranks with Ron, more time practicing magic than gathering snacks from the kitchens, and more time learning how to defend himself than fighting with Malfoy.

It was at night time the next Monday when he got the worst news of his life, even worse news than hearing that Tonks and Bill were killed, news that he hoped he would never hear: Albus Dumbledore had died. He didn't know how, he didn't know what the cause was, but he had gotten word from Remus Lupin that Dumbledore had been found dead in his office late the previous night by Severus Snape. Immediately, Harry couldn't help but question whether Snape was the reason for Dumbledore's death, but Remus had assured him that Snape was not to blame, nor was he the cause. Remus had also stressed that for the time being, it was a secret that Dumbledore was dead, with only those in the Order knowing, as the Order wanted to prepare itself before the country as a whole learned that the greatest wizard of the age was dead, which would leave the country at Voldemort's mercy.

So, with an even heavier heart than before, Harry Potter paid his respects to Albus Dumbledore in the safety of his Privet Drive bedroom, knowing that it was what Dumbledore would want him to do. While he had been truly angry at Dumbledore for not telling him about the prophecy before Sirius' death, he was not going to hold that against the older wizard anymore: Dumbledore was doing what he honestly thought was best, what he honestly thought Harry needed in life. In a way, Harry understood what Dumbledore did—after all, who in their right mind would tell an eleven year old that he had to kill the darkest Dark Lord that has ever existed or else be killed by the said Dark Lord? No one would, and now Harry understood that, that it really was for his own protection that Dumbledore stayed silent for all those years until Harry was truly ready to hear about the prophecy. With that understanding guiding his actions, he remembered the good times he had with Dumbledore, before he returned to his studying; his resolve to learn all that he could even stronger than it was before Dumbledore's death.

It was the first of July, and the werewolf Remus Lupin was walking down Diagon Alley with his amber colored eyes focused on the store named Quality Quidditch Supplies. He paid no attention to the fact that the alley was nearly empty, knowing that it was a common occurrence now that the public knew that Voldemort had returned to power. People in the wizarding world were much too scared to go out and shop in the alley themselves; instead they sent their house elf to do it for them or even paid extra for the stores to deliver the goods to their homes. After a few more seconds of walking, he arrived at the store, pulled the door open and walked into the shop—a bell rang above him, which signified his arrival to the attendants that were working on their brooms in the workshop in the back. He meandered up to the counter that was at the back of the store, his eyes roaming over the various quidditch related items that the store had on sale—there was a brand new Firebolt hanging on the wall, gleaming with a golden light that illuminated the sign that was fastened next to the broom, explaining everything that it offered to the rider. As he took a step in front of the counter, he turned his attention to a group of four boys, none over the age of nine, who had just ran into the store, immediately moving to the broom section with their eyes wide in excitement, apparently braver than most grownups were with Voldemort on the loose.

"May I help you?" A wizard questioned, coming out from the back room to meet with Remus. He wiped his greasy hands on a cloth that was on top of the counter, and then tossed it under the counter, hidden away from the sight of his customers.

"Look at that one!" One of the boys suddenly yelled, pointing to the Firebolt that was hanging up on the wall that Remus had just been looking towards. "It's the fastest one on the market!"

"Ah, yes," Remus said, noticing that the boys had now walked up to the counter and were looking at some of the programs that the various teams around the country sent out for promotions in order to get fans to attend their games. "I need to purchase a Nimbus 1001."

Overhearing what the werewolf had said, one of the boys laughed at Remus, hitting his friends on the shoulder to get their attention. "He's getting a Nimbus 1001!" The boy exclaimed while pointing up at Remus, erupting a roar of laughter from his friends.

"That's like a hundred years old, mister." Another boy sniggered, moving his gaze over to Remus along with the other boys. "I wasn't even born yet when the Nimbus 1500 was out, let alone the 1001."

Remus gave them all a smile and then looked back over to the worker, who was still staring over at the kids, making sure they weren't doing anything wrong. "Do you have one?" He questioned, silently agreeing with the kids that the Nimbus 1001 was an older model of broom.

"Yeah, I think so," The worker nodded, leaning backwards to peek his head into the backroom for a moment. "Give me a second, it's in the back." He said, his gaze moving back to Remus, before he walked into the back to procure the broom.

Remus waited patiently for the attendant to come back up to the front, using the time to think about everything that he needed to do before he was ready. "Get robes, get a trunk, go to Gringotts, and then go to Grimmauld Place for everything else." He whispered, checking off everything on a piece of parchment that he had taken out from his robe pocket.

"Here you go." The attendant walked back with a wrapped up broom in his hands five minutes later, before putting it gently down onto the counter in front of Remus. "While the broom might be of an older model, it is still brand new and will ride as such. Is there anything else that you need or will that be all for today?"

"No thank you," Remus negatively shook his head, and after hearing the price from the attendant, he paid the shop and walked out with the broom tucked under his left arm. He knew that he would have never have been able to afford a newer broom, but luckily he didn't have to buy a newer model in order to accomplish his goals and, in fact, the Nimbus 1001 was exactly what he needed.

He made it nearly all the way down Diagon Alley, before stopping at Madam Malkin's and entering the empty shop. When he walked up to the counter, he asked for a particular size and type of robes, and after receiving a strange look from the attendant, he watched as she went to get what he had asked for in the back like the attendant from the Quidditch shop. He waited patiently once more, before the shopkeeper came back ten minutes later and handed him a brown bag filled with ten sets of Hogwarts uniforms, charmed to change into the appropriate colors when the owner was sorted into their respective house. He ran his wand over the bag that carried them and then tucked the newly shrunken bag into his pocket, before walking out of the shop and towards his next destination, the trunk store.

After scanning the store's items, he purchased a seven-locked trunk that suited his needs nicely, and then quickly moved onto Gringotts, where he ran into a little trouble with the goblins but managed to secure everything that he needed to acquire. Finally, he made his way over to the stored named the Muggle Outlet down at the far end of the Alley, where many wizards and witches dared not go with Voldemort on the loose. The store held everything that a wizard would need when entering the muggle world, such as clothes, guides on how to traverse muggle customs, as well as assortment of other items that most wizarding folk didn't even know how to use. Remus immediately made his way over to the clothes section, perusing everything: just as he wanted, the store only had clothes from the 1970s and early 80s, though they were not used and instead were mostly left on the racks since the time they were put there a decade ago or more. He picked up a good assortment of items, and after purchasing them, he apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place in a hurry, knowing that he had more things to do that day and very little time left to do them.

Around noontime the next day, there was a soft tapping at Harry's window in the smallest room of 4 Privet Drive. The young wizard quietly walked over to it and allowed the tawny owl entrance into his room, where it hopped to the edge of ledge and put its leg out for Harry. He took the letter from the owl's leg and handed the owl an owl treat, which hooted in the appreciation and left the room out of the window with a flap of its wings. Quickly unfolding the parchment, Harry scanned what it had to say, a small smile appearing on his face as he read.

_Harry,_

_In light of everything that has happened lately, I want you to be prepared for my arrival at 7 o'clock tonight. I will be apparating into your room directly, so do not be worried or startled when I appear._

_Regards,_

_Remus Lupin_


	2. The Portkey

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Yeah, a few deaths during the last chapter, but that was necessary, as it initiates and thrusts the story from now on. If they didn't die, this story wouldn't exist. Oh, and as you all should know by now, I have no problem killing characters off if it betters the story. RIP Roger from my last story, I hardly knew you.

S/N 2: I don't know when or on what pattern my chapters will come out for this story; the best I can say is that they'll come out when I find time to write.

Chapter 2: The Portkey

With a soft crack that sounded similar to a glass bowl crashing against a hard floor, Remus Lupin appeared in Harry Potter's room at the time that he had specified in his previous note to Harry. Immediately, his amber eyes roamed the room until falling upon Harry, who was sitting in a broken chair at the cluttered desk that was in the corner of the small room. "Hello, Harry." The werewolf wearily said, giving Harry a tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey Remus, how are you?" Harry replied with a grin, noticing the exhausted bags that were underneath Remus' amber eyes. He seemed more drained of energy than Harry had ever known him to be and worse yet, his hair was nearly full on gray and his clothes were hanging off of him, as if he hadn't been eating for awhile and had lost a lot of weight since Harry had last seen him.

"I've been better." Remus answered, being brutally honest to his deceased friend's teenage son. "I'm glad to see you're safe, Harry." He said, taking a seat on the edge of Harry's bed, directly across from the boy.

"I've been locked up in my house all summer, of course I'm safe." Harry scowled, hating the fact that he couldn't do anything, that he was forced to stay in a cage like some animal. "I've nearly gone mad in here, but yes, I'm safe."

"Your physical safety is more important than your mental health, Harry." Remus replied, knowing that Harry needed to be protected for the greater good, regardless of how it made the boy feel. He had been notified of the prophecy dealing with Harry and Voldemort when Voldemort had first returned, being entrusted with the knowledge along with Sirius in case something was to happen to Dumbledore or Severus Snape, the only other two people who knew of the contents of the prophecy and were still alive at the time of Voldemort's return. Now, with only Snape and Remus knowing the prophecy, outside of Harry himself, it was an ever bigger priority to keep Harry safe as his guardians were being killed off one by one.

"I guess," Harry shrugged, not wanting to start an argument with the werewolf, whom he respected a great deal. "Are you here to take me to Dumbledore's funeral or memorial service or something?" He asked, wondering when he was going to leave if that was the case.

"No," Remus shook his head, giving Harry a sad smile. "I'm sorry, Harry, that's actually happened already."

"It did?" Harry replied, surprised, having never heard anything from Ron or Hermione about it. He had thought that they would have notified him if anything was to happen, though he had to admit that Ron was probably in too much grief over the loss of his brother to do anything of the sort. He knew that Ron needed him, needed his friend Harry, and it bothered him immensely that he couldn't do anything but write to his redheaded friend for the time being—he just hoped that that time would be coming to an end soon and he could see Ron once more.

"Unfortunately," Remus nodded, thinking back to the funeral that happened just a day after the great wizard's death. "It happened quickly. It was small, with only a few of his longtime friends, members of the Order, some of the faculty at Hogwarts and his brother attending."

"Oh," Harry whispered, saddened that he would not be able to pay his respects to Dumbledore more thoroughly. He stayed silent for a few moments, before he looked over to the werewolf, cocking an eyebrow. "What brings you here then?"

"When we move you, in order to stave off an unnecessary danger, I figured I'd teach you some magic for a few weeks, you know, to prepare you more." The werewolf answered, crossing his arms over his chest, gauging Harry's interest. His gaze moved around Harry's room, and for a brief second, Harry thought he saw a scowl, though it was gone much too soon for him to be certain that it appeared in the first place.

"What kind of magic?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow, wondering what Remus had in mind. Would it be dangerous magic or stupid spells that Remus was thought were 'age appropriate?' He hoped that it was the former as it would help him in his quest to defeat Voldemort just as he had promised himself.

"Well, probably the kind of magic that they don't teach you at Hogwarts." Remus replied, earning a smile from Harry.

Then, suddenly, a frown took its place on his face as the younger wizard bit his lip. "It's illegal for me to perform magic, though." Harry muttered, remembering the excursion to the Ministry he was forced to take just a year prior. "I don't think I can afford another trial like last summer."

"The Ministry has more important things to worry about than magic coming from a single room in a muggle village, Harry. Plus," Remus said, gazing up at Harry, a mischievous look in his eyes that Harry had never seen from him before. "I'll make sure that no one knows."

"All right, if you say so." Harry said with a shrug, trusting what Remus had to say on the matter. He grabbed his wand and stood up, ready to start learning from the former defense professor as soon as possible. He wanted to learn as much magic as he could and as quickly as he could, that way he would be able to avenge the death of everyone he had lost because of Voldemort all the more sooner. If he had to work at it, he would, there would be nothing that would stop him. "Can we start now?"

Remus gave Harry a small smile, appreciating the fact that the young wizard wanted to learn. "We have plenty of time for that, Harry. When I come tomorrow, we will start; I only came here tonight to prepare you."

"I'll be ready." Harry nodded, and after a few more minutes of conversation, he said goodbye to the werewolf, who disappeared with a soft crack.

The next morning, Remus appeared from out of nowhere just as Harry had finished getting ready for the day. "Hello, Remus," Harry said, watching as Remus gave him a slight nod, clearly tired from the night before, though Harry didn't know why.

"Harry," He said, taking a seat on the broken chair that was tucked under the small desk that Harry was sitting on the day before. "I trust you had a good night of sleep."

"I did," Harry nodded, barely containing the excitement that was inside of him. He wanted to get learning already, knowing that the quicker he learned, the sooner he'd see his friends, and the faster he'd be able to duel and hopefully defeat Voldemort. He kept repeating that fact in his head, it was what drove him, what gave him the ambition that he needed to get through the work that he had forced upon himself. "Shall we start, then?"

"Sure," Remus nodded, rising to his feet, as well. He reached into his pocket, took out his wand and twirled it in the air, muttering a spell that Harry didn't recognize. Suddenly, a great warm wind ran through the entirety of the room and the walls flashed in a white light for a brief moment, before the room returned to normal, as if nothing happened. "That will prevent the Ministry from sensing that the magic is coming from this area."

"Right," Harry replied with a nod, having never known that such a spell existed. As he stared at the werewolf, a thought suddenly occurred to him—he didn't know how powerful of a wizard Remus was: he knew that the werewolf was educated and strong, but he didn't know if he was as powerful as Sirius or his father was, though if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he didn't really know Remus all too well.

"The first spell I'm going to teach you is the Dirigible Shield Charm." Remus started, pointing his wand at Harry's chest as if to attack. "It's similar to the regular Shield Charm, but unlike the regular version of the charm, its not a full-body shield, instead it concentrates the shield around your wand. Basically, like the name implies, it's a movable shield that follows your wand around, wherever you point. It allows you to block the more powerful curses that the regular shield is too weak to protect you against—excluding the Unforgivables, of course. In addition to that extra protection, the charm allows you to parry the curses that are fired at you and then send them back at the caster; also, a curse is more likely to reflect back at the caster if you use the Dirigible Charm, rather than the regular shield."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, trying to understand everything that Remus was saying. Thinking back, he remembered some of the Death Eaters and Order members dueling in the Ministry with a shield that was able to reflect the spells back more accurately, and he briefly wondered if this 'Dirigible Charm' was what they were using. "How do you cast it?"

"Like this," Remus replied, moving his wand in a strange fashion. When he was finished, a shield made entirely of energy appeared and glowed a light shade of blue, before it disappeared and became invisible, though very much still active. "It works better as a non-verbal spell."

"But I don't know how to do those." Harry replied, somewhat downtrodden that he was behind on his studies, even though he had worked so hard throughout the summer already.

"I'll teach you how. Plus, you'll learn how to do it more during your sixth year, as well." Remus answered flippantly, turning around and taking a seat on the chair once again. "For this spell, all you have to do is just concentrate on the effect of the spell that you want and do the proper motions. Go on, try."

Try Harry did, and over the next two weeks, Harry and Remus worked on Harry's magic, preparing him for when he would need to fight for his life against the Death Eaters. Unlike when Remus was a professor, when he would only do what was asked of him in addition to the curriculum, the roles were reversed this time with Harry being very demanding of the werewolf, wanting to learn as much as he could while being offered the chance. Whereas he learned the Patronus Charm from Remus out of necessity in fear of Dementors, he was now learning whatever he could out of a necessity to defeat Voldemort once and for all. Over the course of their work, Harry had begun to learn how to perform nonverbal magic, but had yet to master it, though Remus assured him that he was more skilled at it than anyone his age would be, including Hermione, which gave Harry some confidence in his abilities.

"Remus, can I ask you something?" Harry questioned as they took a break from Harry's training to eat lunch one day in mid-July.

"Sure," Remus nodded distractedly, as he took a bite out of his sandwich and a swig out of his flask, which housed a liquid that Harry did not know, though smelled suspiciously like some form of alcoholic beverage.

"How did….how did Dumbledore die?" Harry inquired, having been thinking about that question since Remus had first told him of the great wizard's death. "I know he was found dead in his office, but how did he actually die?"

"Well," Remus said, wiping his mouth with a blue napkin, before tuning his gaze over to the younger wizard. "He was stricken by a curse from a golden ring that he had put on his finger. The curse quickly expanded, blackening his fingers and hand and then his entire arm before it reached his heart, and needless to say, killed him."

"He died from a curse?" Harry gasped; surprised that Dumbledore would fall to such a thing. Dumbledore seemed to wise, so intelligent, to fall prey to a curse like that seemed beneath him to Harry.

"It seemed like it." Remus nodded, still questioning himself why Dumbledore would put the ring on in the first place. Some magicks left a trace or an echo of themselves, and Dumbledore was extremely proficient in being able to read such an echo, meaning that he would have known that there was a powerful curse on the ring. That of course meant that the question of why he put it on was left completely unanswered, and as a result, his death flabbergasted many.

"Why would he handle a cursed ring?" Harry pondered out loud, wondering why Dumbledore would put his life in danger like that, mimicking Remus' own thoughts.

Remus took one last bite of his sandwich, and as he chewed, he thought about how to best answer Harry's question. "He was working on something, something that he told very few of us within the Order."

"And you were one of them?" Harry inquired, believing Remus to be a high ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Remus shook his head in the negative, his gray shaggy hair flopping over his forehead and into his eyes. "I only knew that he was looking for objects of great power and import to Voldemort." He replied, wiping the crumbs off his dingy shirt and tossing his napkin into the rusted metal garbage bin that was next to the desk.

Harry's eyes widened at that proclamation, cocking an eyebrow at the werewolf in curiosity. "What objects?"

"Don't know." Remus shrugged, having not been privy to that kind of information. He only knew parts of the story, not he whole of it, leaving him to only guess what the actual truth was. "I'm ready to resume if you are."

"Ah, yeah, sure," Harry nodded, as he grabbed his wand and jumped back to his feet, taking his attentive stance in front of Remus.

Two weeks later, it was the morning after Harry's birthday, and he had just woken up and readied his things to leave 4 Privet Drive. Remus had told him that he would be leaving the day after his birthday, and Harry couldn't help but be excited to see both Hermione and Ron at Grimmauld Place, where he assumed that he would be staying for the rest of the summer. While he knew that being within the halls of Grimmauld Place would remind him of Sirius and his godfather's death, he knew that it was the safest place for him and his friends to be, so he gulped down the grief he felt for Sirius and held his head up high. Quickly, he gathered all of his things, throwing his books, clothes, and miscellaneous items into his trunk without regard, too excited to sort everything. Just then, there was a soft pop from the corner of his room, and Remus appeared as if from out of nowhere. "Hey, Remus," Harry said, pulling the trunk off of his bed and placing it onto the floor.

"Hello, Harry," Remus replied, his eyes roaming over the room, before his gaze fell upon Harry's trunk. "You won't need that, I got a new trunk for you," Remus said, giving Harry a small smile as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shrunken beautiful old-fashioned trunk. As the werewolf ran his wand over the trunk to enlarge it, Harry noticed for the first time that it had more than one lock on it, similar to Mad-Eye Moody's trunk that Harry had seen a few years before. Once it was full sized, Remus bent down and opened up the first lock, before he ran his wand over Harry's older trunk. With a jerk, the trunk levitated into the air, turned upside down, and the contents of the trunk was dumped into the first lock of the new trunk. Again, Remus ran his wand over Harry's old trunk and then popped open the last lock of the new trunk, stashing the older trunk inside of it and then closing the trunk back up, sealing all of the locks and the contents inside.

"Thanks, Remus, but you didn't have to do that." Harry said with a grin, appreciating everything that Remus had done for him over the course of the summer. He understood that it was probably hard for Remus since the werewolf had lost his best friend in Sirius, his girlfriend in Tonks, and his idol in Dumbledore, but Harry respected how well Remus was handling it all. In Harry's mind, Remus was showing strength that not many had, going through his life the best he could, knowing that until Voldemort was gone, there would be no happiness for anyone, including himself. Unbeknownst to Harry, however, he was very much mistaken, as the werewolf was holding an undeniable grief in his heart, grief that was growing into a darkness that mirrored many of the Death Eaters that the werewolf was fighting against.

"I'll get your broom." Remus whispered, picking Harry's Firebolt up from the floor underneath the bed, where Harry had stored it since his return from Hogwarts, assuming he would use it to leave Privet Drive like the previous summer. "You're taking a portkey instead; it's safer, quicker, and honestly, a lot more reliable."

"I am? All right then." Harry nodded, as he reached down and picked up his trunk and Hedwig's cage in one hand. The owl hooted softy by the sudden jerk of her cage, but otherwise did not show her displeasure.

"Oh, before I forget," Remus piped up, handing Harry a small leather book that was filled with moving pictures, a photo book that was similar to the one that Hagrid had given him during his first year at Hogwarts. "Hermione put this together for you; she wanted it to be for your birthday, but she said she changed her mind and got you something else."

Harry quickly flicked through the picture book and smiled when he saw it was all pictures of Hermione, Ron, and him throughout their years at Hogwarts. "Thanks," He whispered, happy to finally be seeing Ron and Hermione again. He dropped the trunk on the floor once again, opened up the first lock with all of his things inside of it, and then tossed the book onto the top of the pile, before locking the trunk back up.

Silently, Remus reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, golden chain that was connected to a circular piece of metal that seemed as if it was broken off of a larger, more intricate device. He looked down at Harry and then back to the golden chain, giving out a deep sigh that made Harry raise an eyebrow in confusion. _What was he so worried about that would make him sigh like that_, Harry questioned himself, wondering what the matter was with the werewolf. Looking at Harry directly, Remus dropped the chain into Harry's outstretched hand, and then pulled his wand out from his robes, a sad look upon his face. "You got everything you need?" He asked the younger wizard, making sure that he had his new trunk and Hedwig's cage tucked safely in his arms.

"Yup," Harry nodded, gripping the trunk handle and the top of Hedwig's cage with one hand, while holding the golden chain with the other.

"You can change all of this, Harry. You're special, so very special, don't ever forget that." Remus suddenly said, pointing his wand down at the broken piece of gold chain that Harry had in his hand. "Goodbye, Harry. Sprung!" Remus whispered in a melancholic tone, waving to Harry as the younger wizard disappeared from the bedroom.

Before Harry could respond to what Remus had said, he felt the familiar tug of the portkey at his naval. After a few moments, longer than he had ever felt a portkey take before, he braced himself for landing and as his feet touched the ground, he stumbled forward a bit, but managed to stay upright for the first time in his life. Arriving at his location, he looked around to see where he was, and gave a large smile when he realized he was just beyond the gates of Hogwarts, not Grimmauld Place as he had expected.

With an excited spring in his step, he made his way up the path that led to the castle, dragging his trunk behind him and carrying Hedwig's cage and the gold chain in his other hand. As he neared the halfway point between the gates and the castle, he saw Hagrid walking towards him in the distance, and he dropped his trunk onto the ground and waved at the half-giant. "Hiya, Hagrid!" He happily yelled out through the hot summer air.

"Ello?" Hagrid replied in a confused tone, stopping ten feet away from Harry. While Harry had grown a few inches over the course of the summer, Hagrid still towered over him due to his enormous half-giant size, with Harry only being able to reach just above Hagrid's waist. "What're you doing here and how'd you get in?"

"Remus sent me." Harry replied, noticing that Hagrid's hair looked darker than it was the last time he saw him at the end of the school year. _Did Hagrid dye his hair or something_, he questioned himself with a chuckle. Hagrid's long hair had been speckled with gray before the end of last term, but now it was a deeper and richer black color.

"Remus who?" Hagrid questioned suspiciously, staring down at Harry from his massive half-giant frame.

"Remus Lupin," Harry answered confusedly, wondering how Hagrid could forget Remus like that. Wasn't Hagrid apart of the Order of the Phoenix like Remus, therefore it stands to reason that they should know one another well, correct?

Hagrid gave Harry a strange look, not understanding what the younger wizard was saying. "You mean the fifth year student?" He inquired in his thick brogue, cocking a dark, bushy eyebrow.

"What?" Harry said slowly, rubbing his forehead as nervous butterflies began to appear in his stomach.

"Who are you? Did You-Know-Who send you?" Hagrid accused, starting to get worried that this was some trick by the Dark Lord in order to infiltrate the school. "Lets go, I'm taking you to Professor Dumbledore." He said, gesturing for Harry to follow behind him as he started up the path.

"What, Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore?" Harry gasped his eyes wide in shock, nearly panicking with confusion. How could he see Dumbledore when the legendary wizard had died a month prior? "Dumbledore died."

Hagrid whirled around, staring at Harry with wide, livid eyes. "Don't speak about such things!" He nearly shouted, clearly angered by what Harry had said, though Harry didn't know exactly why.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, now wondering if Hagrid had had a nervous breakdown or something and that was the reason why he was acting so strangely. He stayed silent for a few moments as they walked up the path and neared the castle, before saying, "I understand that you're depressed, Hagrid, but you can't live in denial."

"Live in denial of what? Who are you?" Hagrid questioned again as they entered Hogwarts castle and headed towards the stairway that would lead them to Dumbledore's office. While he wasn't sure if this was a trick of Voldemort's, he didn't feel that Harry was that much of a danger and was willing to turn his back on the younger wizard, though he still made sure to keep an eye on him just to be sure.

"It's me, Hagrid, Harry." Harry pleaded, hoping to get through to his first friend in the wizarding world. It pained him to see Hagrid like this, so confused and suspicious; he only hoped that it wasn't permanent and he would get the old Hagrid back soon.

"Harry? I don't know any Harry. Now that I'm looking at you, you look like James Potter." Hagrid mentioned, walking up the stairs with Harry following in his wake, his giant footsteps thundering off of the stone floor and echoing across the walls.

"As well I should, being his son and all." Harry replied quickly, bewildered about how a nervous breakdown would make Hagrid forget all about him like this. They were friends, weren't they? Surely, he couldn't be forgotten as easily as it seemed, could he?

"His son, you say? Nonsense, you're much too old for that." Hagrid laughed, remembering that the rascal James Potter was only entering his fifth year just like Remus Lupin. "In fact, I reckon you're older than he is."

"What?" Harry asked, finally fully realizing that something was wrong, that something wasn't right, and that perhaps it wasn't Hagrid that was confused, but him instead. "Hagrid, do you know who I am?"

"You just said your name was Harry." Hagrid noted, shrugging his shoulders, rounding a corner into the hallway that led to the gargoyle statue that guarded the Headmaster's office.

"No," Harry shook his head, wanting a clearer and more concrete answer than that. "Do you not really know who I am? Have we met before?"

"Not that I can recall." Hagrid said, making Harry drop his things on the spot. "What are you doing that for? Come on, just a little more until we reach Dumbledore's office."

Harry gulped down the ball that was in his throat, nodded dumbly, and picked up his things. As they walked, Harry stayed silent the rest of the way to Dumbledore's office, inwardly trying to figure out what was going on and what had happened. So far, all he had was these two facts: Hagrid didn't recognize him and had said that he was too old to be James Potter's son. That could only mean one thing—time travel. Had he somehow time travelled into the past? Before he could answer that question they had arrived at the stone gargoyle and Hagrid quietly said the password, and with a great lurch, the staircase leading the Headmaster's office came out from the floor and formed the entryway into the office.

As they entered the office, Harry's breath hitched in his chest when he saw the aged, wise figure that was Albus Dumbledore sitting behind the large oak desk. He wore a smile as he gestured for Harry and Hagrid to come forward, his blue eyes with their normal twinkle, though the twinkle was much more youthful now than Harry had ever seen before. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, this is Harry, he says he's the son of James Potter and that you are dead."

Dumbledore's eyes met Harry's, and for the briefest of moments, Harry could have sworn he saw his life flash in front of his eyes. "Hello, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, looking over to Hagrid and nodding his head to the half-giant. "I can take it from here, Hagrid, thank you."

"Right, professor, I'll be going then." Hagrid replied awkwardly, looking from Harry to Dumbledore and then back to Harry again before turning around and walking out of the office, presumably back to what he was doing before Harry had arrived.

"This…this isn't possible." Harry muttered in a strange tone, the shock of what was happening finally hitting him. He looked around the office, trying to make sure this wasn't a dream or an illusion, that this was really Dumbledore's office, the same one that he had visited so many times before. "You died. Remus told me, it was in all of the papers, and then Ron and Hermione wrote about it to me, as well!" He suddenly exclaimed, unable to keep his composure, losing himself in the panic that the situation had tossed upon him.

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, that the report of my death has been greatly exaggerated." Dumbledore smiled, paraphrasing a very famous muggle author that was popular during the time of his youth. "So I see that you believe that you time travelled? What year do you think this is?"

"1996." Harry answered, hoping that he was going to wake up in his bed soon, not even realizing that Dumbledore had invaded his mind and read his thoughts.

"No, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid it isn't." Dumbledore replied, putting it as gently as he could. He knew what he was about to say was going to be a bombshell, but he had no other choice than to say it and he just hoped he could console Harry afterwards. "It is 1975."

A/N: Like my last story, I'll be giving you the etymology of spells used throughout. The spells in this chapter-

**Sprung:** This spell initiates a pre-determined and made portkey that was not activated right after its creation. "Sprung" is jump in German.


	3. Van Winkle and the Trunk

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Emotionally, its going to take a while for Harry to really understand what has happened to him, just give it a few chapters, you'll see that his actions or reactions in the first few chapters are just how he goes through things.

S/N 2: Sorry for the delay, life happened and I lost my desire to write for a few months. I didn't intend for it to happen, I apologize for it. I'm back now, though, and am ready to get this story rolling!

Chapter 3: Van Winkle and the Trunk

Thunderstruck by Dumbledore's proclamation, Harry opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Again and again he tried to speak, but like the first time, nothing came out of his mouth, making him look more like a fish than a wizard. "No, this…this isn't possible," he finally got out after a few minutes of silence, barely above a whisper, though his words carried around the entire office.

"I'm afraid," Dumbledore replied in a gentle voice, pushing his confusion about the entire matter to the back of his mind, instead focusing on making sure that Harry was comforted. "That it seems to be possible."

Unable to speak once more, Harry put his head in his hands and let out a loud, despondent sigh, trying to come to an understanding of what exactly was happening. "Am I really in the 1970s?" He groaned, hoping that none of this was true, that he was dreaming and before long he'd wake up in his comfortable bed at Hogwarts with Ron calling out his name to go and eat breakfast.

"It seems so, son." Dumbledore answered, knowing that this was difficult for Harry and unless handled correctly, would be even more difficult with each passing moment. He knew that he would eventually need to figure out how it was even magically possible to travel back in time that far, from the 1990s to the 1970s, but he also realized it wasn't the time for that: now was the time to take care of the confused teenager that was sitting in front of him, needing his help. With his brilliant blue eyes gazing at the younger wizard, he stayed silent, wanting Harry to initiate the conversation for himself when he was ready. While the great wizard certainly needed answers, he was willing to wait however long he needed to in order to get them.

"I can't go back, can I?" Harry abruptly questioned the older wizard, though he somehow already knew the answer. Throughout his limited time in the wizarding world, he had never heard of a Time-Turner sending someone forward through time, only backwards, and he figured this would be the same principle as that.

"Not that I am aware of, no, I'm sorry." Dumbledore answered once again, giving Harry a small, sad smile, hoping to ease the pain. Time was funny like that: you could go back, but not forward since the future wasn't written and was therefore too fluid to safely travel to.

_I'll never see Ron or Hermione again_, Harry immediately thought to himself, putting his head in his hands once more with tears beginning to flood into his eyes as the realization sprang to his mind. _I'll never see Ginny, my friends, or the rest of Dumbledore's Army; the Weasleys, they're all gone;_ he would never see them again. That fact hit him like a blow to the chest, like a bludger to the stomach, and he suddenly had trouble breathing and started to feel light-headed. Across from him, Dumbledore reached out to him from behind his desk, but then pulled back slightly, apparently not knowing what to say or do. Even with his unbelievable intellectual strength, the great wizard couldn't form a sentence that he thought would comfort the boy, he couldn't think of anything, and for the first time in a long, long while, he felt inept and powerless.

A few minutes went by with Harry silently crying to himself, and then, with tears still forming in his eyes, Harry looked up to Dumbledore, who gave a frown right back at him in response. "So what do I do?" Harry questioned, giving into the situation, trying to keep himself together. _Why would he do this, why would he take my away from my friends,_ he couldn't help but question to himself, wondering why Remus had chosen to send him to the past. Did he expect Harry to be able to defeat Voldemort before the monster terrorized all of England? He thought back to what Remus said to him before he left his bedroom, 'you can change all this,' and he couldn't help but come to the conclusion that Remus wanted him to somehow change the future, as if that was even possible.

"Live, Harry." Dumbledore answered, getting to his feet and walking over to the wooden cabinet that was behind his desk. He opened up the top door and took out two small vials of clear liquid, before combining them both into a larger vial and walking back over to his desk. "Live the life that you would have lived if you were in your own time." He continued, retaking his seat in the chair that was across from Harry.

"I would be in my sixth year." Harry sighed, as Ron and Hermione's faces jumped into his thoughts once again. He would never see them as his friends; instead, all they would be was children twenty years younger than him when they were finally born. Then, suddenly, a thought popped into his mind, which brought a large smile to his face for the first time since he had learned of his predicament: it was 1975; his parents were in Hogwarts at that time. He would finally be able to meet his parents in person; he would be able to talk with them and laugh with them and enjoy their company. He would be able to do all of the things that he had dreamed of doing ever since he was a small child, albeit as a wizard their same age rather than their younger son. _A wizard older than them_, he corrected himself, his mood plummeting once more instantly.

"So I take it then that you wish to be enrolled at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked in an unsurprised tone, sitting forward in his chair a bit to be closer to Harry.

"I…I guess so." Harry nodded, knowing that he would need to continue with his education, regardless of the fact that he was in the past. He answered Dumbledore's question in the affirmative somewhat in the hopes that he would eventually be able to find a way to get back to the future if he applied himself in his classes, though he knew it would be a difficult undertaking, if not outright impossible. Then, biting his lip, the threat of Voldemort jumped to the front of his thoughts, as if he suddenly remembered the evil wizard was very much present during this time. "Sir, I have to tell you, there are things I know about Voldemort that you might not."

"I know, Harry, but we will have time for that, do not worry." Dumbledore smiled politely, putting his hand up to stop Harry from speaking about such things for the time being. Though he dared not show it, inwardly he was fairly impressed with Harry for calling Tom Riddle the name that others even older than Harry feared to speak, something that spoke of the bravery that was deep inside the boy. "Quickly, however, can I ask how you arrived here, if you don't mind? Did you walk through some sort of portal?"

"Okay, then." Harry muttered, then upon realizing Dumbledore had asked him something, he looked at the older wizard and cleared his melancholic thoughts. "No, I took a portkey here."

"A portkey?" Dumbledore inquired, wondering what was used as the key.

"Yeah, it's right here," Harry said, tossing the golden chain that he was holding over to the Headmaster, who caught it and placed it down on his desk to study.

"It's a Time-Turner…" Dumbledore whispered to himself, realizing how it was possible: blood magic infused with the power of a turner. He would need to study it further, but that was his working theory and he doubted he'd think of a better answer than that. "Who created this for you?"

"Remus Lupin," Harry answered dumbly. "Or at least he was the one that gave it to me." He corrected himself, remembering that he didn't actually see Remus create the Time-Turner.

"Did he use a spell in front of you?" Dumbledore prodded at the Time-Turner that was on his desk with his wand, which ignited a couple of blue sparks that flew from the golden chain and disappeared in the air.

"Yeah," Harry answered, thinking back, trying to remember what it was that Remus had casted. "He said…he said 'sprung.' Is that like an ancient spell or something?" Harry questioned the older wizard, wondering what the spell meant as he had never heard of it before.

"Sprung?" Dumbledore gave Harry a small smile, appreciating the innocence of the question. "No, that spell is a charm that invokes a portkey that was previously created but not yet used. It's not ancient, nor even all that old. It was created just a few years ago." He paused for a second, looking down at the Time-Turner, before tapping it with his wand, muttering something that was incoherent to Harry.

"Oh," Harry replied with a sigh, disappointed in himself for not knowing about the spell.

"Right, right," Dumbledore nodded, regaining his wits, noticing the tone of which Harry spoke with. He reached over and grabbed the vial of potion that he had retrieved a few minutes prior, before levitating it over to Harry and gesturing for him to take it. "It'll sooth your nerves."

Harry wiped his teary eyes with his sleeve and took the potion, opening the vial up and downing it without pause. For a second, his eyes glazed over, before returning to the way they normally looked, a vibrant shade of green. "Thank you, sir." He replied in appreciation, feeling the effects of the potion already.

"Your real name is Harry Potter?" Dumbledore questioned, gazing directly at Harry, who stared straight back. "You were born to James Potter, is that correct?" 

"Yes," Harry nodded, as if he was in a trance, unable to stop himself. "My name is Harry James Potter, born to James and Lily Potter."

Dumbledore stayed silent for a moment, before another question brushed off his lips. "And in what year were you born?"

"1980." Harry answered, before shaking his head, and looking over to Dumbledore, seemingly back to normal. "What just happened?"

Amazed, Dumbledore stared a Harry for a brief moment, surprised and caught off guard by the boy's ability to throw off the effects of the potion as quickly as he had. "Nothing, now let's get you sorted into your house." Dumbledore whispered, rising from his seat and walking over to the shelf that was on the side of the room. While the shelf was littered with incredible gadgets and whizzing contraptions, he grabbed the most miserable looking item of them all, settling on the old, brown, tattered wizard's hat that had been used to sort students for nearly a millennium.

"Do I need to be sorted again, professor? I mean, I've already been sorted in Gryffindor once before, can't I just go put my stuff up in the tower?" Harry pleaded, not wanting to go through sorting again; plus, he really wanted to get to know his parents and what better way to do that then to be around them like he would be in Gryffindor?

"Ah, but things have changed, Harry, lets see what this hat has to say about where you belong." Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eyes, handing the hat down to Harry. Truth be told, this was no mere student sorting, instead Dumbledore wanted to use the sorting to see where the boy would be sorted in order to get to know him better, as he knew the pair would have to be close from then on due to the circumstances of their meeting.

With a sigh, Harry put the hat on top of his head and waited for inevitable voice that he knew would come. "This is interesting, very interesting." The hat said in Harry's mind a moment later, discerning the qualities that Harry had hidden inside of himself_. "I see I've done this for you once before, and that time I chose Gryffindor. You have so much potential, so many unique characteristics, but where to put you? You are loyal like a Hufflepuff, clever like a Ravenclaw, brave like a Gryffindor, and…dare I say, cunning and resourceful like a Slytherin? You're a parselmouth, as well?"_

"_I want to meet my parents."_ Harry thought to himself, hoping to be a Gryffindor like he was in his own time.

"_But you could get to know your parents better in another house, that I promise you. You could be great in Slytherin, and with most Gryffindors' dislike of Slytherins, you could see the real people that your mother and father are with your own eyes, beyond all the teenage bravado."_ The Hat replied, knowing that only by seeing the person act when he doesn't know he is being watched can someone truly see who that person is at heart.

"_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin."_ Harry thought again, hoping to sway that hat work once more like he had done during his first year.

"_Fine, if you say so, then it must be,"_ The Hat said in Harry's mind, before bellowing out, "Ravenclaw!"

"Ravenclaw?" Harry asked out loud, completely surprised by the designation. He didn't believe that he was brainy enough for Ravenclaw, regardless of the new dedication to learning that he had found over the summer. "Ravenclaw?" He disappointedly sighed, upset that he wouldn't be with his parents.

"You will learn about your parents more by not being in the same house as they are, trust me." The Hat said, earning a nod and a smile from Dumbledore.

"Very well," Dumbledore clapped his hands, still smiling brightly. "Your things will be brought up to the Ravenclaw tower by a house elf; in the meantime, I will escort you up there myself." With that, the pair exited the Headmaster's office and made their way through the halls in silence, before walking up a spiral staircase and coming to a stop in front of a wooden door with a bronze knocker. Dumbledore gave the knocker a soft knock, and stood back and waited for the question that would grant them entrance to the hidden common room.

"How do you prevent a diricawl," A soft voice said, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. "From disappearing if you want to get close enough to study it?"

Harry looked up to Dumbledore, who gestured for the boy to answer with an amused expression on his face, clearly knowing the answer but wanting Harry to figure it out for himself. "Um, you wait for it to come to you?" Harry answered after a few seconds of thought, hoping that it was the correct response.

"Well reasoned," The voice said as the door opened slowly, revealing the Ravenclaw common room to Harry.

The common room was a wide, circular room, airier than most of the other rooms at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue-and-bronze silks: by day, the Ravenclaws had a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains, and by night, they had a beautiful view of the moon that hovered high above the environs. The ceiling was a dome and was accentuated with painted stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet that was underfoot. Throughout the room, there were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble: Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the founders of Hogwarts and one of the greatest witches who had ever lived.

Dumbledore led Harry down one of two staircases that was in the corner of the common room, stopped on the sixth year landing two levels down and then opened a door to a large circular room with six beds. "Obviously, you can choose whatever bed that you wish." Dumbledore said, gesturing to the empty room, which Harry silently entered. "The other students will not be here for another few days."

"Thank you," Harry sighed with his eyes gazing around the room, trying to decide which bed he wanted.

"You can always come and talk to me, Harry, my door is always open for you." Dumbledore said, patting Harry's shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Try and get yourself situated here, and we'll talk more at dinner in an hour." With a nod, the older wizard left, leaving Harry alone in the room to his own thoughts.

Harry looked around the room one more time, before deciding on the bed that was next to the window that overlooked the lake. He could see, just barely, the giant squid flail its tentacles out of the water, which brought a small smile to Harry's face. As that smile disappeared off his lips, he fell back onto his bed, his head hitting a blue pillow as he stared up at the top curtain of the four poster bed.

Meanwhile, the great wizard Albus Dumbledore arrived back in his office just minutes later, and upon entering, he saw the half-giant Rubues Hagrid standing next to his desk. "Professor Dumbledore, sir," Hagrid said eagerly, taking a few steps towards the older man. "How is the boy? Was he sent by the Dark Lord as I suspected he was?"

"No, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, walking past the half-giant and over to the cabinet that was next to the bookshelf. Popping open the wooden door, he took out a silver instrument that was in the shape of a muggle bedside lamp and brought it over to his desk.

The instrument had a wide, circular base, and consisted of a large silver rod that came out from the base, went up about a foot and a half, and was crowned by a paper-like shade that covered what seemed to be a fireless candle. He brought his wand up to the instrument and gave it a gentle tap, and immediately, images began to appear on the far wall, though they were faint. "Twenty years," He whispered, as the images on the wall became darker and more visible, and Hagrid noticed for the first time that they seemed to be of a timeline that spanned from Dumbledore's birth to present day. Dumbledore spun the shade at the top like a wheel, and the timeline on the wall started to change, going from the present all the way back to 1900, where it stopped on a picture of a teenage boy with long, curly dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes that was labeled June of 1899.

"Twenty years, Professor Dumbledore, sir?" Hagrid questioned confusedly, wondering what the great wizard meant by that.

"Travelling that far back goes against Van Winkle's Time Properties and Laws," Dumbledore muttered, referencing a study that was done by a very famous wizard named Van Winkle, who had dedicated his life into researching time travel. His research served as the basis for the Time-Turner magic that the Department of Mysteries studied in the Ministry of Magic. "The strain and stress of such a travel should have killed him. How did he survive such a distance?"

"I think I can answer that for you, Albus," The Sorting Hat spoke up suddenly, as the hat caught Dumbledore's gaze.

In his room within the Ravenclaw dorm, Harry continued to stare at the ceiling, his thoughts continually drifting back to Hermione and Ron as salty tears streamed slowly down his face. He just couldn't believe that he wouldn't be seeing them for a long time and worse yet, when he did finally see them, they would have no idea who he was. The fact that they would never be there like they would have been in his own time saddened him greatly, and the knowledge that his Hermione and Ron were gone, that they never to be the same people tortured him worse than the Cruciatus Curse could ever dream to inflict upon him. As he was lost in his sorrowful thoughts, he heard a pop come from the end of the bed, and he quickly looked over to the spot, where he noticed that his trunk had finally appeared.

Then, realizing that perhaps Remus had left him something, he jumped from his bed and ran to his trunk. He pointed his wand at the first lock, and it popped open easily enough—the only items in this portion were all of his items from his own trunk that were dumped in by Remus while in Harry's room at 4 Privet Drive. He popped open the second lock, and his eyes went wide when he saw that there was a whole new wardrobe of Hogwarts' robes waiting for him, all having the blue and bronze coloring of Ravenclaw: the uniform looked like the older model of uniforms than he had worn in the future, identical to the model that he saw in Snape's memory inside the pensieve just a few months prior. The uniform itself seemed a lot more formal than what he was used to wearing, having a charcoal suit coat and charcoal pants to go along with a charcoal v-neck sweater that was embroidered with the blue and bronze of Ravenclaw and a white dress shirt. All the clothes were adorned with the Ravenclaw eagle crest, just as his robes in his own time were adorned with the Gryffindor crest.

He opened the third lock next, and was surprised to find a whole new set of regular clothes, ones that seemed oddly outdated to him, but he knew would fit in just fine with the latest fashions of the 1970s. The fourth lock came next, and with a flick of his wand, the lock popped up and revealed its secrets. He first saw a ladder, and after climbing down into the trunk, he saw that it was actually a library the size of a large bedroom. Shelves filled with books covered the three walls that didn't house the ladder, from floor to ceiling, with a small, round table and a set of four plush chairs centered in the middle. On top of the table, there sat a pile of books, a canary yellow envelope, a journal, and a pensieve filled with the familiar silvery substance that was neither a liquid nor a gas. Harry walked over to the table and grabbed the yellow envelope, ripping it open at the top and pulling out the folded piece of parchment that was inside.

_Dear Harry, _

_Hopefully by now you know what exactly happened and where you are. What can I ever say to make you understand why I did this? I consider myself a strong person, a proactive person, someone who can withstand whatever life throws at him. I guess being a werewolf gives you that strength, having grown up being condescended and looked down upon by nearly all those around me, but this time it was different, something that I just couldn't take. The world is crumbling; my world is crumbling, with so many deaths of our friends and family members, all because of a cruel, evil, vile wizard. This was the only way that I could fix things, the only way for us to rectify all that Voldemort has done in the world. I know you're special, so very special, I know that you will be able to change the things that have been wronged in my life and yours, as well as Sirius' and your parents' lives. I'm sorry this was forced upon you, but I could not tell you before because of the magic that it takes to accomplish it; you would never had agreed to do it then if you knew what it took for me to get you back to where you needed to be. I hope one day that you can forgive me because believe it or not, I did it all for you. _

_With love,_

_Remus 'Moony' Lupin_

Harry gulped down the lump that was in his throat, before reading the letter once more. As he finished reading the second time, he noticed that behind the letter there was another note, one that seemed to be written on muggle paper, rather than wizarding parchment. He quickly pulled it out, wanting to know what else Remus had to say to him, hoping to get some more information, such as what the magic was that Remus had spoken about. The note was a few paragraphs long and read:

_Don't think I'm leaving you alone, Harry, you see that journal on the table, across from the pile of books? I have imprinted my memory and my thoughts into it, whenever you need to talk, just write inside and I will be there to answer, always._

_Also, there is a spell on the trunk: you cannot take anything out of the trunk until the year it was published or created. In other words, if a book wasn't published until 1980, you won't be able to take it out of the trunk until 1980. You can still read it, of course, but it just has to be inside of the trunk to do it. In case you're wondering where all these books came from, they are your inheritance from Sirius; take a look at some of them, they're quite interesting and will teach you a great deal about magic. Your school books for your sixth year (I presume you will be taking the same courses then as you would have if you were going to Hogwarts in your normal time) are on the bottom shelf of the bookcase nearest to the ladder. _

_Next, that other pile of things on the table is your inheritance from Albus Dumbledore, including the pensieve. Those are all the things he wanted you to have; they will help you defeat Voldemort once and for all, just like you are destined to do. Read through them, they will guide your way in your fight against the Dark Lord. _

When he finished reading, he looked down at Remus' journal that sat on top of the table and felt a sudden surge of queasiness and anger at the thought of talking to Remus so he left it alone and moved onto Dumbledore's things. Most of them were books, with the top most being a book entitled "Tales from Beedle the Bard." He then gazed over to the bottom shelf nearest to the ladder, and sure enough, he saw the books that he knew that he needed for the upcoming Hogwarts year. Knowing that he would come back down into the library soon to go through everything else, he climbed back up the ladder and prepared himself for the next lock, wanting to see what else the trunk had in store for him.

He moved onto the fifth lock, but had trouble opening until he physically put his hands on the lock and opened it manually himself. Cocking an eyebrow at the extra protection that Remus had put on it while also wondering what the trunk held, Harry opened it up and found a medium-sized wooden box inside along with a small envelope. He tried to pick the box up, to lift it from the trunk, but it did not move, as if it was firmly glued onto the bottom of the trunk. He then opened up the box top and was hit with a view of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. He quickly ripped open the envelope and read the note, wanting to know what this was.

_Harry, _

_This is the entire contents of my vault, your vault, and Sirius' vault. Every time you close the box, the coins will be refreshed up until the point that you do not have any money left, though that should not be until few decades have passed, if it ever happens. _

_Remus _

"He thought of everything." Harry murmured, knowing that no matter how he felt at that moment, he would eventually get over his anger at the man and would never be able to hate Remus for doing this: he simply thought this was the only thing he could do to make sure that the world was saved from Voldemort's evil. He would miss Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dumbledore's Army, the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and of course, the entire Weasley family, but there was nothing he could do to get back to them at that moment other than to live his life just as Dumbledore had said. He would grieve for Ron and Hermione, he knew that, and they would be forever etched into his heart and memories, but he couldn't let their absence destroy his life as he now had the opportunity to meet his parents, to talk to them just as he had always wanted.

Finally, he made it to the last lock, which was a normal trunk, albeit larger than a muggle one would be. There were two items inside, a Nimbus 1001 and Harry's old trunk. Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of the broom, knowing that this was top of the line for the year that he was in—he doubted it would have anywhere close to the control and speed that his Firebolt had, but he was excited even still to try it out and see what it could do. As he put the broom back into the trunk, he looked down at his almost broken watch, and after seeing that it had been an hour already, he closed the last lock and reopened the third one, pulling out a pair of jeans, a new pair of sneakers, and a blue shirt.

He quietly changed his clothes into clothes more suitable for the seventies, all the while processing everything that he had learned throughout the day. He had everything he needed in this time, including money, clothes, books, but still, he knew that it would take some adjusting. After all, it wasn't everyday that you are thrust into a situation that you didn't expect or could even imagine prior. So, with that in mind, he exited his room and headed out of the common room, his stomach rumbling a bit in hunger, intent on taking the first step in his new life.

A/N: It was either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff; I chose Ravenclaw because it was easier to invent characters based off of cannon characters to be in Ravenclaw with him than it would have been if he was in Hufflepuff.


	4. Green Speckled with Blue

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The chapters are going to start getting longer now; I've just been trying to ease into this story as I normally do. Also, this is the last chapter of the opening mini-arc, with the real story I wanted to tell starting in the next chapter.

S/N 2: Like always, be patient with this story. If you think of something or notice something that doesn't seem right, there is usually an explanation coming sooner or later.

Chapter 4: Green Speckled with Blue

The teenager named Harry Potter slowly made his way down to the Hogwarts Great Hall for dinner, where he had expected all of the teachers to be present, but ended up being surprised when the room was only occupied by a small table that fit no more than five people. Dumbledore and Hagrid were already present, enjoying a mug of pumpkin juice and a laugh as they seemingly waited for Harry to arrive. "Ah, Mr. Potter, you are right on time." Dumbledore smiled as Harry entered the grand chamber, pushing out the chair next to him for the boy to take.

"Please, call me Harry, sir." Harry replied, awkwardly, as he accepted the proffered seat and settled in at the table. He gave Hagrid a small smile, who returned it with a large grin, apparently over his suspicions about Harry being a spy for the Dark Lord Voldemort. "Hello, Hagrid."

"'Ello, Harry." Hagrid said through his bushy black beard, still grinning towards Harry. "Would you like some pumpkin juice?" Hagrid questioned as he raised the pitcher, and then, not even waiting for a response from Harry, he poured the younger wizard a glass of the pale orange liquid.

"Thank you, Hagrid." Harry said, as he took a sip of the delicious juice that was both sweet and tart at the same time.

"Now, Harry, we have a lot to talk about, and I apologize for thrusting what we have to talk about upon you, but which do you prefer, that we talk before or after dinner?" Dumbledore asked in a pleasant tone, though his eyes lost their twinkle for a brief moment in an effort to convey the seriousness of what they had to speak about.

"I guess after," Harry replied with a shrug, knowing that what Dumbledore had to say wasn't good.

"All right, very well, if that's what you want." Dumbledore laughed, picking his fork up into his right hand. "Well then, let's eat."

As soon as the words left Dumbledore's mouth, food appeared on the small table: there was a platter of roast beef slabs, a large bowl of mashed potatoes, a plate of green beans, a dish of carrots, a basket of biscuits, and a boat of gravy. The trio took whatever portions of each that they wanted, and started to eat quietly, satisfyingly tasting the hot meal that many an elf had made for them. "So, 'Arry, you and I were close in your time?" Hagrid questioned, with gravy from the roast beef running down his chin and into his beard.

"You could say that." Harry nodded, gulping down a piece of roast beef so he could speak. "We were really close when I started Hogwarts, with you in fact introducing me to the wizarding world, but over the years, we grew apart a bit due to your work and responsibilities with the Order."

"Oh," Hagrid replied sadly, pushing his food around his plate with his giant fork, suddenly losing his appetite.

"But hopefully we can be close now." Harry added with a smile, knowing that he would need Hagrid to talk to and with; after all, nobody knew him in this time except Hagrid and Dumbledore, he was basically all alone, which brought a deep sadness to his heart. From his seat next to Harry, Hagrid grinned and nodded enthusiastically, his beard flopping through the air as he regained his appetite and started to eat once again.

They all stayed silent for the rest of the meal; it was a comfortable silence, not awkward by any means. Finally, when they were all content in the amount of food that they had each eaten and the rest of the food had disappeared from the table, Dumbledore looked up to Harry, his blue eyes showing sadness in them. "I think we should talk before dessert."

"Okay," Harry gulped, wondering what it was about. He hoped he hadn't done anything wrong already and Dumbledore was mad at him, though he didn't know what it could have been that he had done_. I went up to my room and stayed there until dinner_, he thought to himself, _not much room for doing anything that would get me in trouble, I don't think. _

"We, well, we have to take care of a few things to prepare you for the coming school year." Dumbledore delicately started, turning his chair to face Harry so they could talk one on one. "Honestly, you can't go around with the name of Harry Potter, can you?" He questioned rhetorically, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I...I hadn't thought about that." Harry realized, wondering if he was going to have to change his name. The thought of changing his name made him feel a bit awkward, as he felt it was disrespectful to the sacrifice that his father had made for him as a baby. Even so, he knew that it had to be done and that there were no other alternatives. "I guess I could take a new name."

"I was thinking, perhaps we can fabricate a story where you are my grandnephew who is transferring into Hogwarts from another wizarding school. You said that we were close in your time, no?" Dumbledore asked, a small smile lacing his aged features, a true smile that went all the way to his soul and not just a pleasantry. "Your name could be Arold Dumbledore, grandson of my brother Aberforth, that way you can still go by Harry. You have to have a first name starting with an A for the sake of staying true to the Dumbledore tradition, and since you would be of my relations, no one would really question why you transferred to Hogwarts."

"That could work." Harry nodded slowly, admitting to himself that if he had to take another last name that wasn't his father's, he wanted it to be Dumbledore, whom he thought of as a grandfather in a way.

"Good, then I will have the proper documents transferred into the Ministry's Documentation Office by tomorrow, that way it looks real." Dumbledore paused and took a sip of his pumpkin juice, quenching his thirst for the time being. "Next, and this I am more hesitant to discuss with you, but… you look too similar to your father; people are bound to get suspicious."

"Am I going to have to drink polyjuice potion?" Harry questioned with a scowl of disgust on his face, remembering the horrid experience of the potion.

"I see you've experienced the rather unpleasant taste of polyjuice, hm?" Dumbledore smiled, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Of course not, I have methods of disguise more permanent than the polyjuice potion, as I was a Transfiguration professor before Headmaster. All you would have to do is come to me once a month to drink a potion, which we can also use as time to discuss how you are doing and to talk between the two of us. As long as you drink the potion that I will give you once a month, the magic that I use on you will stay locked onto you for the following month."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly, hoping that he didn't have to change the way he looked that much. A few subtle changes here and there, sure, but other than that, he didn't want to change, because he liked the way he looked.

"Wonderful." Dumbledore clapped in delight, his sweet tooth beginning to get the better of him. "Right, now let's eat our dessert and then we will head up to my office to perform the proper spells."

A half an hour later found Harry sitting in front of Professor Dumbledore's desk, a mirror placed to the right of him. He looked at himself: his black hair was longer than he thought it was, just above his shoulders at its longest, but still very unruly. He continued to look in the mirror when Dumbledore waved his wand, transforming Harry's hair color from black to a dark brown; and then changed the texture as well, from unruly to straight. "I look strange." Harry smiled, noticing that he already looked different than he did just a few minutes prior.

"Your eyes look exactly like your mother's eyes." Dumbledore noted, watching as Harry looked at his face in the mirror.

"Can you speckle them with blue or something?" Harry questioned, trying to figure out a way to make sure that no one was suspicious.

"I can do that," Dumbledore nodded, flicking his wand once more and watching as little tinge of blue entered Harry's green eyes. They were now more of a mixed color, rather than the brilliant green color that they naturally were, though they stayed their familiar almond shape. "What do you think?"

"Do I look like either of them?" Harry questioned, wondering if he had changed in appearance at all to the outside perspective.

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled, knowing that his touchups were more shallow than anything else, like a person wearing a wig. "But it will suffice, I believe." He waited until Harry stopped looking at himself in the mirror before he said, "Now what classes will you be taking this year?"

"What, oh, I guess…" Harry said, looking up from the mirror and over to the Headmaster. "I guess I'll take the same classes I would be taking in my own time: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology."

"I suspect that you have received either an exceeded expectations or outstanding on all of those O.W.L.s, correct?" Dumbledore asked with a hint of curiosity, wanting to make sure that Harry was qualified for the courses.

"Yes," Harry agreed with a nod of his head, thinking back to the tests that he had taken just a few months prior. "I was the only one in my entire year who got an outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That is very good." Dumbledore beamed, remembering when he had to take his O.W.L.s: all of his classmates were very nervous, while he was as chipper as any other day. As he pulled himself out of his memories, his blue eyes moved over to one of the clocks that he had hanging in his office, and after noticing the time, he got to his feet and walked over to a cabinet that was next to a window on the other side of the room. He opened the door, reached into the back and pulled out a small vial of white liquid: it looked a lot like milk and had a similar viscosity as cream. Then, after walking back to his desk, he handed the vial over to Harry and said, "Drink this before you go to sleep tonight. I'm sorry I have to cut this short, but I have an Order of the Phoenix meeting that I must get to in a few minutes."

"No problem," Harry nodded, pocketing the vial and getting to his feet. "Good luck," He said, making his way to the door.

"Thank you," Dumbledore replied, watching as Harry walked. Just as Harry reached the door, Dumbledore called out to him, saying, "I look forward to getting to know you, Harry." Harry smiled to the older wizard and exited the room, walking back up to the Ravenclaw tower and into his room.

He laid down on his bed, his hands relaxed underneath his head. Staring up at the ceiling, he wondered what life would bring him now, on this new adventure that seemed straight out of a science fiction novel. He wondered if Dumbledore in this time would be less detached, less frivolous in manner than he was in Harry's own time. After all, the Dumbledore he knew was so shuttered and closed to the world, Harry hoped that in this time, the pair could form a real and true bond. Perhaps, he reasoned, that since he was older in their first meeting in this time, Dumbledore would open up to him more than he was willing to do in his own time.

He didn't know how long he laid there thinking about things, but when he saw that the light from the sun had stopped gleaming into his room, he got to his feet and went over to his trunk. "I'm in Hogwarts all by myself." He said, slowly, as a large smile crept onto his face. He quickly grabbed his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map, and made to leave the room. Before he reached the doorway, however, he suddenly stopped and looked down at the map, a quizzical expression on his face. "I want to explore Hogwarts on my own, not follow a map." He said after thinking about it, and then threw the map back into the bottom of his trunk, under a few old books that hadn't been used since his second year. He then left the room, his wand and invisibility cloak in his hands, with intent of conquering the secrets of Hogwarts.

He spent the rest of the night searching every nook and cranny of Hogwarts, and for the first time in his life, he found a secret passageway. He didn't know if anyone else had or if he was the only one who knew about it, but it was on the second floor and led into the stairway that led to the boy's dormitory in the Ravenclaw Common Room. He knew that would come in handy one day, when he was late getting into the common room or he was trying to avoid other people so he made sure to remember exactly where it was and exactly how to open it.

He also went to the fourth floor, where he knew there was a secret passage behind the mirror, but when he arrived there he realized how late it was. "I'll come back and see where the passage leads tomorrow night. I want to see what the Philosopher's Chamber is used for during this time, as well." He murmured to himself, and using his new found passage into the Ravenclaw Common Room, he found himself in his bed in no time. After downing the white potion that Dumbledore had given to him, he quickly fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He spent the next day testing out his new broom, the Nimbus 1001. It was fast he found out, though not anywhere close to the Nimbus 2000 was, let alone the Firebolt. It did, however, turn better than any of the newer brooms, with the makers' apparently trading speed in for control. Harry was pleasantly surprised when Hagrid had come down to the pitch to watch him for a bit around midday. After he was finished flying, they talked to one another for a while, with Hagrid clearly wanting Harry to know that he was there for him and to show that Harry wasn't alone.

Later that day, Harry ate his dinner and then waited for the sun to go down before he toured Hogwarts once again. This time, he headed straight to the fourth floor with the intention of finding out where the passage behind the mirror led to and what secrets it guarded. He knew it wouldn't be blocked yet because he remembered Sirius mentioning it during his fifth year, which would presumably mean that Sirius had visited while he was in Hogwarts, though he couldn't recall if Sirius ever told him where it went to or not. When he finally arrived at the mirror, he bit his lip in thought as he tried to figure out how to open the secret doorway that he knew was hidden behind.

"Open!" He said, pointing his wand at the mirror, which elicited no response. "Hm," He smiled, liking the rush of excitement that solving a riddle always gave him. He noted that without Ron around, he actually did enjoy learning, something that was surprising even to him. "I know, dissendium!" He said, touching the mirror three times with his wand, pretending that it was the one-eyed witch that guarded the other passageway that led to the cellar in Honeydukes.

With eyes wide in amazement, he took a step back as the mirror lurched forward, revealing a large doorway behind it that led to a long hallway. He took his first steps inside the hallway, lighting his wand tip and raising it in the air to light his way as he walked. After a minute or two of walking downward on a slope, he came into a large chamber that was completely devoid of anything: it was just empty, with limestone walls and tall ceilings. "This must be where Sirius suggested we have the meetings for Dumbledore's Army." Harry murmured, and after seeing a doorway on the other side of the chamber that was barely noticeable, he walked towards it and entered into another long hallway, this one descending even deeper into the Earth.

It took five minutes to reach the end, and when he did, he saw that there was a curving stairwell made entirely of stone that went up to a stone. He followed the stairs up, and when he came to the landing, he saw that the platform led nowhere, and was instead surrounded by three walls. Seeing something glisten in the light from his wand, he tentatively reached out to a metal plate that was fastened to the wall in front of him. It was about the size of a Hogwarts' trunk, and was extremely warm to the touch, as if there was some great energy source heating the space behind it. To his great surprise, the metal plate pushed forward, allowing him a view of the outside world. He carefully stuck his head through the hole, trying to see what part of Hogsmeade he was in, and immediately knew that he was at the train station upon seeing the train platform and the train tracks straight in front of him.

"Wait a minute," Harry said to himself, bending his body so he could look at the front of the metal plate that he was holding open. The plate was a marker, and said 'Hogsmeade Station, est, 1808.' "Funny." Harry laughed; somewhat disappointed that it didn't lead to Zonkos or somewhere else interesting. He pulled his head back in, and after securing the metal plate back on the wall once again, he turned around and headed for the exit, intending on going to see the Philosopher's Stone's chamber next.

He arrived on the third floor corridor and went to the doorway that led into the left wing of the corridor, curiously wondering what would be hidden behind it. He spelled the door unlocked with a simple muttering of "Alohomora," and after twisting the knob, the door squeaked open, revealing its secrets: it was empty. To Harry's surprise, there was nothing there, barring the trap door that led to the other chambers deep below. His curiosity getting the better of him, he went over to the trap door and pulled it open, which revealed an ancient looking wooden ladder.

Tentatively, he climbed down, hoping that the wood wouldn't break, and after a shorter trip than Harry remembered last time, he reached the bottom, which fortunately did not have any Devil's Snare. He walked through the next few chambers, trying to figure out what they were for and why they weren't used by the school for anything. It was strange, he thought, being in the chambers without there being a guardian or anything that prevented him from moving on. Finally, he arrived at the last chamber, the one that he knew would house the Philosopher's stone in the future, and for the first time, he studied its architecture.

He stared at the stone steps that led downwards to a platform, noticing how strange they looked. "It looks like a theatre," He muttered, seeing how high the steps were from one another, as if they weren't actually steps in the first place and more like seats in a Roman amphitheatre. "This may have been a classroom." He reasoned, his gaze moving all around the room, seeing how nearly all of the walls and walkways were angled towards the center of the room, presumably to better effectuate the orator as he or she spoke.

"Not just any classroom, but the very first classroom." A voice said from the doorway that Harry had just came from, startling Harry a bit. The young wizard quickly turned around, his green and blue eyes quickly meeting Albus Dumbledore's blue gaze. "I did not mean to scare you, my boy." Dumbledore smiled, walking towards Harry in the center of the room. "I saw you enter the west third corridor and decided to follow you."

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to come into a forbidden area of the castle, I was just curious." Harry replied, hoping that he wasn't in trouble.

"Nonsense, this area isn't forbidden, it's just not in use. Plus," Dumbledore answered, coming up next to Harry. Standing next to each other, Harry noticed that he had grown a few inches over the summer, being just up to Dumbledore's shoulders now, who happened to be considerably taller than most in the wizarding world. "It's always a good thing when someone is curious; learning is something that people should never stop doing, no matter how old one gets."

"You said this was the first classroom?" Harry inquired, wondering what Dumbledore meant by that.

"We believe it was, yes. Not just that, but that it was in fact Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff's classroom, with Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw sharing another chamber that I'm sure you'll find one day." Dumbledore nodded with a grin, the familiar twinkle in his eyes gleaming brightly. "You are in the heart of Hogwarts, the very center of the castle, the epicenter of the founders' legacies. This is where they first started to build the school, with everything coming out of and being built around this one area."

"Wow," Harry whispered, amazed as his eyes gazed around the chamber with a new found respect. Thinking about it, he realized the genius of hiding the Philosopher's Stone in this specific spot: it was as if the founders themselves were protecting it from Voldemort, in addition to all the wonderful, powerful, and curious defenses that the professors had put up themselves.

"How did you know about this, if you don't mind me asking?" Dumbledore questioned, curious how such a wizard new to the wizarding world could figure out one of the most ancient of Hogwarts secrets.

"I've experienced this room before." Harry answered honestly, looking up to Dumbledore. "It's where you hid something of great import during my first year at Hogwarts."

"That's interesting." Dumbledore replied, but not questioning what the item that was hidden was, knowing that when the item came to him, he'd immediately know it was that of which Harry had spoken about. He took one last look around the chamber, before turning back and heading towards the doorway. "I'm sure you'd be interested in a room on the fourth floor. Try not to get into too much trouble during your explorations."

Harry grinned as he watched Dumbledore exit the room back the way he came, leaving Harry alone in the chamber once again. Then, in the corner of his eye, something grabbed his attention on the far wall, and he headed over to it, wondering what it was. Carved intrinsically in the stone was an eagle with a snake in its talons, its wings carved into a flapping pose as if it was flying. He examined the area around the carving, noticing that it was somewhat different than the rest of the chamber.

"This is a passage." He said to himself, knowing that it was hiding something behind it, though he had no idea what. "Open," He commanded, holding his hand over the carving. Nothing happened. "Dissendium!" He said, while pointing his wand at the wall, expecting it to open just as the mirror had before. Unfortunately, however, it didn't, and instead, he was left wondering what to do.

He tried again, this time by saying, "The Hogwarts Four." Just like his previous two tries, nothing happened. "Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw," he said once more, which had no effect. "Godric Gryffindor and Helga Hufflepuff," He whispered, tapping the stone emblem with his wand. For a moment, he thought he was chasing pigeons, and that it was not a bona fide passage, but the emblem seemed like such a marker for something that he couldn't shake the feeling that it had secrets behind it. He sighed in defeat, and made to turn and walk away, before pausing for a second, a thought coming to him. Then, remembering that this was a classroom and thinking that the doorway led to another classroom, he turned back around and said, "I need to go to class."

To his delight, the wall lurched open, revealing a small, low ceilinged hallway that travelled about thirty feet. He of course followed the hallway—the door having closed behind him—and when he was about three feet from the end, the stone in front of him lurched open and created a doorway out. He took a step into the new chamber, immediately noticing that it was nearly an exact replica of the chamber he had just come from. Like before, the door closed behind him, and he turned around to examine the stone wall. His eyes fell upon a carving of a small lion with a badger sitting on top of its back. The lion's left paw was raised in the air, as if it was about to strike, though Harry didn't know what it was meant to signify, if anything at all.

He turned back around and his gaze roamed over the chamber. "I guess Dumbledore didn't know about that secret passageway or else he probably wouldn't have hid the stone there." He muttered as he walked around the amphitheatre and towards the doorway on the other side of the chamber. "Then again, maybe he had the same protections on this side, as well." He laughed to himself as he entered the next room, which like the previous chamber, was an exact replica of its twin on the other side of the secret passageway.

It was like déjà vu for Harry as he walked through the rooms, all of them carbon copies of their twins on the other side. He rolled his eyes in laughter when he reached a wooden ladder that led upwards, and figuring that he would come out from a trapdoor in the eastern wing of the Third Floor Corridor, he started his climb up. It took a few more minutes than the other one had, Harry had noticed, and when he pulled himself up through the trap door and into the room above, he was questioning whether he was actually on the third floor at all.

He hurriedly walked over to the door that was on the far side of the room, and with a simple twisting of the knob, he left the room, his eyes looking all over to see where he was. "I'm on the fourth floor?" He whispered, having passed the room when he was heading towards the mirror passageway an hour before. "I guess this is what Dumbledore meant when he mentioned a room on the fourth floor."

He had one more place he wanted to go to before he went back to his room for the night, so with that in mind, he turned around and headed across the fourth floor to the storage room that he knew housed the Mirror of Erised. It had been four and a half years since he had stood in front of the mirror, with the last time being of course when he had tried to prevent Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone. His mind drifted over to the conversation he had with Albus Dumbledore that one fateful night, before Dumbledore had had the mirror moved into the chambers below Fluffy's room to guard the stone.

He didn't know how he felt about what Dumbledore had said. He knew that the mirror gave him no truth, but he disagreed with Dumbledore's words that it didn't give men any knowledge. Knowing your hearts' desire, what you wanted out of life, what your ultimate goals were, was something that was very powerful and could help someone steer themselves to what they really want out of life, instead of losing precious time doing things that did not make them happy. Sure, there was a danger in wasting away in front of it, but peeking at it every once and a while to make sure you were on track was certainly not harmful in his opinion.

So there he stood, at the entranceway of the storage room, staring at the full body mirror. He took a few steps to the left and a few more forward, before he got his first view of what his heart wanted. Unlike last time, his family wasn't there, neither were his friends, and he didn't see himself with the Philosopher's Stone either. Instead, what he saw surprised him for a few moments, until he realized the meaning behind it. He was standing alone in the mirror, older and more powerful, and back to his normal black hair color and normal green eyes, with Voldemort destroyed and gone from the world, his evil extinguished. "Voldemort's defeat," He whispered, nodding his head in thought. "That's my heart's desire."

The rumble of his stomach pulled him from his mirror induced stupor. He looked at himself one last time, before he turned and walked out of the room. He headed down to the kitchens, tickling the pear of the portrait to grant him entrance, and asked the house elves for a plate of cookies and a glass of cold milk. They enthusiastically served him, and he quickly made his way back up to his room, planning on eating his snack in the comfort of his room. Instead of using the main entrance to the common room, he again used his secret entrance, which cut his travel time down by nearly five minutes. When he was finished with his cookies, he pulled the covers over his body and fell asleep soon after, intent on continuing his exploration of Hogwarts the next night.

It wasn't for another three days until the Hogwarts Professors started to arrive, and on the fifth day, there was a buzz around the castle because the students would be arriving the very next day. Harry and Dumbledore had continued to speak with one another over that time, with Harry learning a lot from Dumbledore and Dumbledore getting to know Harry some more. Meanwhile, Harry had also developed a friendship with Hagrid, who was more than willing to come out to the Quidditch pitch with him to watch and critique his flying.

He had met many of the new teachers at dinner the night before the students were to arrive, though quite a few of them did not come to dinner, presumably choosing to spend more time with their family instead. Of course, he immediately recognized the younger Minerva McGonagall, who had just taken over as the Gryffindor Head of House three years before. Then there was Filius Flitwick, who was serving in his first year as the Charms teacher, having accepted the job immediately after winning a dueling competition in Europe. Though, he was not the Ravenclaw Head of House just yet, that position was held by the Divination teacher that Harry had yet to meet. Overall, Harry was excited at the prospect of seeing his parents for the first time, which he hoped would happen the next day when the students arrived.

A/N: Arold is an ancient form of the German name Arnold, and it means strong like an eagle, fitting now that Harry is in Ravenclaw.

A/N 2: Harry and Bellatrix meet for the first time next chapter. I originally planned for it to be later, but I changed it up a bit.


	5. The Black Widow

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The new professor introduced in this chapter is very, very important to the overall story. Any guesses how?

S/N 2: Bellatrix! This chapter didn't come out quite how I wanted it to, but it suffices for its purpose.

Chapter 5: The Black Widow

At long last, the next day found Harry sitting in the middle of the Ravenclaw table with a nervous excitement around him as the other students were soon to arrive. He looked up to the teachers' table, where Dumbledore smiled down at him, nodding his head to the younger wizard, hoping to ease the boy's nerves. Just as Harry's gaze left the Headmaster, the doors of the Great Hall were thrown open, and a crowd of chattering school children walked in, taking their seats at their respective house tables. Before long, Harry was encircled by a group of fourth year Ravenclaws, all of whom were too busy discussing things amongst each other to notice Harry.

Harry watched the door with a steely gaze, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother or father. He couldn't wait to see them; the excitement that he felt was almost palpable. Then, someone walking into the Great Hall caught his eye, and it wasn't either of his parents. The wizard that Harry was watching was tall and skinny, and had a hooked nose with a greasy and sallow face that was curtained by long black hair: Severus Snape. The future Potions Professor was flocked by a group of Slytherins, with two handsome boys with mousy brown hair and a tall girl with black hair carrying up the rear, an aura of superiority around the entire group. Harry followed them with his eyes as they took a seat at the end of the Slytherin table, and continued to watch them until Dumbledore's voice gained his attention and every student in the Great Hall went silent.

"Welcome, welcome, to a new year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." Dumbledore said loudly, smiling widely at his students. "Let the sorting begin!" He yelled jovially, gesturing for Minerva McGonagall to bring over the Sorting Hat and the wooden stool that would be used to divide the new students into their respective houses. Harry watched as Dumbledore listened intently as the Sorting Hat sang his song, which mentioned the fact that Hogwarts was going to experience an exciting school year that the school had not witnessed in its thousand year history, which made both Harry and Dumbledore wonder what it was that the hat was referencing.

Immediately after the hat was finished its song, McGonagall began to yell out the names of the new students, each of whom came nervously up to the stool to get sorted. Briefly forgetting about his search for his parents, Harry watched with apt attention as the first years were sorted into their houses, wanting to see if he recognized anyone or not. There were only about forty students being sorted, which surprised Harry a bit, since in his time about sixty were sorted every year. The sorting was quick, and before Harry knew it, Dumbledore was standing back up, addressing the school with a loud, booming voice.

"As I'm sure the older students are already aware, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to anyone not accompanied by a member of the Hogwarts faculty." Dumbledore said, looking over to the new students of Gryffindor, whom throughout his long years at Hogwarts he had noticed always had a knack of getting into trouble. "These are dark times, but do not fear, for as long as you are under my protection, no evil can get to you. Finally, I would like to say that we have a new student in our midst this year, a student who has transferred from another wizarding school. His name is Arold Dumbledore, and he has already been sorted into the Ravenclaw House so please welcome him as you would any other new student that joins our family here." Dumbledore smiled as he nodded to Harry, erupting curious whispers and stares throughout the students, all of whom were trying to get a peek at him. "Oh, and I would like to add a few words, and they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

Harry smiled at Dumbledore's eccentric behavior, recalling that those words were the same exact words that he said during Harry's first year. "I wonder what they mean, if anything." Harry whispered to himself, scooping a dollop of mashed potatoes onto his plate once the food appeared in the center of the table.

Throughout the meal, Harry searched the Gryffindor table for his mother or father, but he couldn't find either, which confused him a bit. He figured they were there, he just wasn't seeing him, but even so, he was frustrated at his failure. With disappointment written clearly on his face, Harry stayed quiet the rest of the night, no one having reached out to talk to him, nor did he say anything to any of the Ravenclaws that were around him. After eating his dessert, singing the school song, and walking up to the Ravenclaw Common Room, he had expected to get to know his sixth year mates, but unfortunately, all of them seemed more tired than anything as they were all already in bed by the time he got up to the dorm. With a sigh, he jumped into his own bed, closed the curtains, and rested his head in his hands, wondering what the next day would bring him.

Harry woke up a little late the next morning, and not being able to catch breakfast, he took a shower and walked down to his class, excited to meet his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Harry!" Albus Dumbledore called out to the younger wizard, who stopped when he heard the Headmaster's voice behind him. "I was hoping I'd be able to catch up to you." The older wizard said, stopping a few feet away from Harry.

"Hello sir, how are you?" Harry questioned, staring at the moving planets that were embroidered on Dumbledore's plum-colored robes. They appeared to be orbiting around the robes, like the real planets did around the sun.

"Good, good." Dumbledore smiled, appreciating the younger wizard's courtesy. "I meant to talk to you yesterday, and perhaps this isn't the right time for it, but I wanted to discuss something with you before your classes start."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, wondering what the pair had to talk about. "What is it, professor?" He questioned in a curious tone, moving his gaze from the robes up to Dumbledore's eyes.

"Do not hold people up to the beliefs that they had or sins they committed during your own time. You must remember, Harry…" Dumbledore paused, wanting to make sure he chose his words carefully to make sure his point was understood. "People in this time are innocent of their future choices that were, incidentally, in their past during your time. They have yet to cross those lines, and if you don't give them a chance to deny that path for themselves, you might just lead them into crossing those lines in the first place; what I mean is, is that you have to leave your prejudices of these people in your time and let them write their own future once more."

"I…I understand, sir." Harry replied, knowing that it was probably true, though he couldn't help but feel as if he would never be able to do that. How could he just forget what the Lestranges did to the Longbottoms? How could he forget what a miserable wizard Lucius Malfoy was during his time? How could he forget that Peter Pettigrew betrayed his parents and ruined not only his life, but Sirius' as well? Sure, he could nod his head and say he understood, but in practice, he knew deep down inside he would always hold a grudge against many of the people he would be soon seeing.

"Just try, my boy." Dumbledore smiled, hoping that Harry would do the right thing, and that he would somehow find the strength needed in order to cast out his prejudices. "Class is starting soon, you should be off."

Knowing that the Headmaster was right, Harry made his way to his classroom as quickly as possible. He was the last one to arrive, and once entering, he immediately noticed that it was a class of Ravenclaws and Slytherins. No seats were open except for the seat at the front of the class, specifically the right column of desks which housed a boy with short black hair and ebony skin. "I'm sorry, professor, Professor Dumbledore wanted to discuss something with me that took a little longer than expected." Harry flustered, noticing that the teacher was looking at him. She smiled and waved off his apology, gesturing to the open seat that Harry had seen moments before. Harry sat down and took out a bottle of ink, a piece of parchment, and a quill, preparing himself for the class.

"Hello class, my name is Professor Regula Moonshine. In case you're wondering, and just to get it out of the way, yes, I am the daughter of Regulus Moonshine, the wizard and author who researched and wrote about hags. Now, this is N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts, and this class will not be for the faint of heart: it will test you, it will endanger you, and it will not surrender its secrets easily. However, with effort and hard work, I am sure we will be able to get you all through this in one piece, and all the better for it." She smiled at them all, noticing their rather down expressions, and she hoped for a brief moment that she didn't sound too harsh or scary. "Good, now that that is out of the way, let's move on to the fun stuff."

"Class is over already?" A Ravenclaw snickered from the back, earning a laugh from everyone in the class, including Harry.

"No, no, of course not, unfortunately." Ms. Moonshine smiled again, appreciating the levity that the teenagers brought to the magical world. She reached into the top drawer of her desk and pulled out enough pieces of parchment for everyone in the class. "In order for me get to know you better, I figured you all could divide up into groups of four and you could all ask each other the questions that are written on the chalkboard and then write the answers down on these pieces of parchment." She gave one to the boy next to Harry and handed the rest to Harry to take one and pass the pile on. "I think, by me walking around the room while you ask and answer the questions, many of the answers will rub off on me, allowing me to learn more about you in a fun and easy atmosphere. Plus, it is crucial for you all to know and trust one another for this class, or else many of you will be going to the Medical Ward every other session."

She watched as the students got up and formed their own groups; all of the students stayed within their house, with Slytherins grouping with Slytherins and Ravenclaws grouping with Ravenclaws. "That can't happen," She frowned, gaining the attention of the class. Noticing that there were two columns of eight desks, four desks each, with each desk holding two students and with each column having either all Slytherins or all Ravenclaws, she knew what she could do. "Perhaps every desk should group up with the desk that is immediately next to you."

Harry looked over to the desk that was next to him, and his eyes went wide when he saw a girl with long black hair and pointed features that looked strangely like Bellatrix Lestrange. "She's here?" He growled under his breath, confused by how and why she was in Hogwarts. "I thought she was much, much older than this." Then, he thought back to a conversation he had had with Sirius in the cave during his fourth year, "_Snape was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters…Rosier and Wilkes…the Lestranges…Avery."_

_I guess she is the supposed to be in Hogwarts then_, he thought to himself, cursing his luck, barely containing the anger that he felt at seeing her face. His gaze swayed over to the boy next to her, and he thought he could recognize him as a Lestrange, though he did not know which one. _What kind of luck is this, the one person I hate most other than Voldemort and I am forced to meet her on the first day of class, _he seethed inside, truly wondering why fate had thrown Bellatrix his way. "Great," He muttered to himself while rolling his eyes, though his desk mate heard him clearly. He was filled with such great rage that he didn't know if he could stand it, the wound of Bellatrix's murdering of Sirius still fresh in his heart and mind.

"They're not so bad. They at least can do the work, unlike those other snakes who are dumber than a bag of hammers." The black boy said, patting Harry on the back. Harry's gaze moved from Bellatrix to the boy next to him, and he noticed that he looked vaguely familiar as well, similar to Dean Thomas. "Your name is Dumbledore, right? Sorry I didn't say hello last night, I was catching up with my mates from Hufflepuff."

"Ah, yeah, but you can call me Harry." Harry replied, awkwardly, as Bellatrix Black and Rabastan Lestrange levitated their stools over to the desk. He would try to give Bellatrix a chance just like Dumbledore had told him to do, though he knew it wouldn't matter: Bellatrix was evil to the core, and no matter how many chances Harry gave her, she wouldn't be any different than what he knew her as in his time. His dislike of her must have inadvertently shown on his face as he noticed that she gave him a look when he turned his attention back to her.

"I'm Derrick Jordan, nice to meet you, Harry." Derrick smiled, shaking Harry's proffered hand.

"Aw, how cute, an icky friendship has blossomed right in front of my eyes." Bellatrix cooed in a faux baby voice, a voice that angered Harry greatly because it brought him back to the night of Sirius' death. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard to Harry, a disgusting mix of mockery and arrogance that barely shrouded the madness inside.

"I bet that's the first time you've ever seen a friendship start." Harry replied, earning a laugh from both Derrick and Rabastan. Harry gave Bellatrix a fake smile, and she just scowled in response, but said nothing. Her silence surprised Harry as he had always known her to have an explosive temper, though Harry figured that as a teenager, perhaps she was a little calmer than she would be in the future after spending her time in Azkaban.

"Let's see what we have to do here," Derrick murmured, looking up to the chalkboard and reading the questions that were written. "The first question is 'what is your full name?'"

"Bellatrix Elladora Black." Bellatrix answered first, seemingly wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. While her tone certainly wasn't inviting, her voice wasn't what Harry expected it to be: instead of cold and high pitched, it was rather neutral.

"Derrick Jordan, no middle name." Derrick nodded, watching as the others wrote his name down on their respective pieces of parchment.

"Arold James Dumbledore." Harry answered, somewhat angry with himself for adding in the middle name James. He had not spoken to Dumbledore about it, and it came out by mistake, rather than him purposely answering.

"Rabastan Orrin Lestrange." Rabastan finished, though they all nearly answered in near unison, the first question having been an easy one that didn't take much thought.

While Bellatrix wrote down everyone's answer on her parchment, Harry used this time to get a good look at his godfather's murderer. She had thick, long and shinning black hair, with thin lips and heavy-lidded violet eyes. With pointed features, she had the aristocratic good looks that nearly all of the Blacks possessed, which incorporated high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. Compared to her sister Narcissa, who had fair skin, Bellatrix had a darker, almost olive skin tone, though even so, there was certainly still a resemblance between the two. Overall, she was almost unrecognizable to Harry to the person that she was after Azkaban had hollowed out her looks.

"Question two, where are you from?" Derrick said the second question after reading it off of the board. "Well, I'm from Galway."

"I'm from Jersey, but my family also has an estate in Wiltshire that we stay at most of the year." Rabastan answered, writing down Derrick's answer with his quill.

"What about you, where are you from, Dumbledore?" Bellatrix asked, looking at Harry pointedly after the boy didn't answer immediately.

Harry stared straight back at her, wondering what her problem with him was already. After all, the only thing she knew about him was his fictitious name. _That's it, she probably hates Dumbledore so surely she would hate someone related to him_, he thought to himself. "I'm from Surrey," He replied, not specifying anything more than that—he thought about answering Little Whinging, but he didn't want to go into that much detail, so instead he settled on his county, like Rabastan had. "And you, Ms. Le…Black?" Harry asked, catching himself from calling her Lestrange.

"London." She said, giving Harry a strange look in response to his near slip up, while using her quill to write everyone's answers down.

"When is your birthday?" Derrick said next, reading the third question on the board. "Mine is February 23, 1959."

"March 15, 1959." Rabastan answered immediately, giving Derrick a large grin when the boy looked up at him in fear, clearly recalling the ides of March as the death of Caesar.

"December 23, 1958." Bellatrix said, not looking up from her parchment.

"July 31, 1959." Harry said, hoping that he answered the year correctly. He figured since Rabastan and Derrick were born in 1959, he would have been too, if he was truly from this time period. He quickly did the math in his head: if it was 1975, then that would make him sixteen, turning seventeen the next summer, which was exactly right.

"How is everyone doing over here?" Professor Moonshine said, walking over to their group and looking over Rabastan's shoulder to his parchment. "So we have Bellatrix Elladora Black, Derrick Jordan, and Arold James Dumbledore? And you are," She leaned over to look at Harry's parchment, as Rabastan's parchment didn't have his own name written down on it. "Rabastan Orrin Lestrange? Very good," She smiled at them all before walking away to another group, trying to learn about her students further.

"Right, what did you do over the summer?" Derrick continued once Professor Moonshine had moved on from their desk.

"I…travelled," Harry answered cryptically after everyone else had answered with various activities. _I travelled twenty years through time_, Harry thought to himself with a wry grin, knowing that he would be shipped out to St. Mungo's if he told them the truth.

"Where did you travel?" Derrick asked interestedly, but after seeing the scowl that was on Bellatrix's face, he moved onto question number five. "If you were an animagus, what would your form be?"

"A spider," Bellatrix answered first, though Harry didn't know if it was a sincere answer or she was just trying to get through with the questions as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, a black widow," Rabastan sniggered under his breath, earning a slap on the back of the head from Bellatrix. "I don't know, maybe a shark?" He grumpily responded, rubbing his head in pain.

"I'd be an elephant!" Derrick grinned, hoping that he would be able to transform into his favorite animal, regardless of how useless it might be in practical purposes.

"I guess a stag, a giraffe, or a horse. Wait…a horse, yeah, a horse" Harry answered, knowing that while he admired his father's stag form, they were two different people and his form most likely wouldn't mirror his father's if he had one.

"A giraffe?" They all laughed, including Bellatrix, who couldn't help but think the idea of a giraffe animagus was the pinnacle of absurdity. In her mind, only useful animals were worth the effort of transforming, animals like foxes, snakes, or small bugs, which would allow a person to sneak into spaces they wouldn't normal be able to get into.

Harry shrugged, looking down at his parchment. "That was one of the first things that came to mind, but I would want to be a horse instead." He said, recalling the time when he was six or seven and played with a broken giraffe toy that Dudley had thrown out because he had been bored with it.

"What is your favorite subject in Hogwarts?" Derrick read off of the board once again, announcing question number six.

"These questions are stupid." Bellatrix suddenly snapped, as she placed her quill down on the desk, seemingly refusing to write anymore. Her gaze moved over Derrick and Rabastan, before falling on Harry. "So you're a Dumbledore, huh?" Bellatrix questioned, and Harry immediately realized that his suspicion over why she had a problem with him was correct: she didn't like him because of his chosen name.

"Ah, yeah," Harry agreed with a nod, looking up from his parchment and over to Ms. Moonshine, whom was still walking around the class, gathering information.

"Is Professor Dumbledore your grandfather?" Bellatrix asked, cocking one of her dark eyebrows.

"No, my granduncle," Harry lied, shaking his head, making sure to stick to the fabricated story that Dumbledore had crafted for him.

Bellatrix squinted at Harry, and for a moment, stayed silent, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "What is everyone's blood?" She questioned the group, though she stared directly at Harry.

"I don't see how that has any bearing on this assignment." Harry said, meeting Bellatrix's gaze, not wanting her to think he was intimidated by her.

"The assignment was to get to know you, so I'm getting to know you," Bellatrix smiled, giving Harry a toothy, self-righteous grin. "So, what's your blood? Or am I to believe that you don't know what blood you are?"

"I'm pure-blood." Derrick answered, surprising Harry by answering.

"Same," Rabastan followed suit with a nod of his head, revealing his pedigree. Bellatrix just smiled at Harry as a result of the other two answering, brimming with arrogance that only a Black could have.

"I am a half-blood, if you really must know." Harry finally answered after thinking about how he wanted to go about it: he could have chosen not to answer in an act of defiance, but instead he decided to tell her his blood, showing her that he prided himself on his heritage, regardless of the fact that he wasn't a pure-blood.

"I must." Bellatrix scowled with a small look of disgust at Harry's proclamation on her face, clearly repulsed by the fact that he was a half-blood. "Not that there is any question, but I am a pure-blood. Now, onto my favorite subject, that would have to be Charms."

"Ancient Runes," Derrick answered next.

Rabastan looked down at his parchment, answering, "Potions."

"This class," Harry answered sadly, writing down Rabastan's answer.

"So you like the Dark Arts, eh?" Rabastan asked, interestedly, jerking his head up from his parchment.

"No," Harry shook his head, giving Rabastan a glare. "I like defending myself from the Dark Arts." He said, making sure to annunciate his every word, hoping that Rabastan would get the hint that Harry had nothing to do with the Dark Arts.

"Oh," Rabastan muttered, awkwardly, having severely misinterpreted what Harry had meant.

"Well class," Professor Moonshine interrupted, clapping her hands together at the front of the classroom. "It seems that we are out of time…wait, is this a double period?" Seeing the students' nods, she laughed and shook her head. "I apologize, you may carry on then."

Another hour passed with Harry and his group finishing off the questions, which got more and more personal (as well as funny) with each passing one. For instance, question number twenty-seven found the students asking each other what they would smell like if they were a bar of soap. Harry didn't know what significance the questions were to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but he was interested to see how the teacher was going to tie it all together. He had to admit to himself that he truly did enjoy the activity, and would have enjoyed it even more if Bellatrix Black wasn't in his group, nor even Rabastan Lestrange, though he did laugh at many of Rabastan's answers.

He tried to not allow his emotions to get the better of him, but being so near to two future Death Eaters, who both did horrible things to innocent people, was hard on him, very hard on him in fact. He tried to do as Dumbledore had told him to do, to give everyone a chance, but Bellatrix didn't help the matter. After all, who asks what a person's blood is on the day that they meet? With a sigh, Harry turned his attention back to the teacher, wanting to hear what she had to say before the class ended.

"Now, class, for the first part of this year, we will be studying dark creatures and beings, and how to stop them if they are a danger to you." Ms. Moonshine said, standing up at the head of the room and allowing the students to return to their normal desks after the assignment was finished. "We will look at werewolves in their wolf form, hags, vampires, and all of the ilk. As I understand it, you've been given an overview of what we would consider a dark creature over the past five years, but in the NEWT-level class, we go into even more depth than you have previously. The first creature we will study this year is the most horrible of them all, the nasty monsters that are called dementors."

"Professor Moonshine," A Ravenclaw boy with long blond hair and silvery, grey eyes said, raising his hand. "Are we going to learn about heliopaths? Or nargles?"

"Ah, Mr. Lovegood, is it?" She said, and after seeing the boy's nod, she continued. "No, we will be studying neither heliopaths, nor nargles, as they do not exist."

"They do, they do, though!" Xenophilius Lovegood replied, indignant by the fact that the professor didn't think they were real.

Moonshine looked at Xenophilius, and gave him a smile, coming to a conclusion. "Okay, how about this, if you can prove to me that they exist by Halloween then I will make sure that we study them towards the end of the year. Do we have a deal, Xenophilius?"

"Deal!" Lovegood grinned, making eye contact with Harry for a brief moment. Harry couldn't help but smile at that interaction, the realization that that was Luna's father being comforting to him for some reason.

"Now onto dementors, like I was saying..." Moonshine started again, but when she noticed the time, she realized that the period was ending soon. "Ah, I guess we'll get to them next time. See you next week."

Harry got up from his chair and packed all of his things into his bag with the rest of the students. As they all funneled out of the room, he watched as nearly everyone else conversed with their friends and classmates, with Derrick Jordan talking to Xenophilius Lovegood and a Ravenclaw girl that Harry didn't know. He sighed, feeling a bit sick to his stomach, and instead of heading to the Great Hall for lunch, he turned and headed for the Ravenclaw Common Room.

He was glad that the common room was empty when he arrived as he didn't very much feel like making conversation with anyone. He quickly ran up the stairs to his room and got into his bed, pulling the curtains around his bed closed and spelling them shut so no one from the outside could open them. He laid there for a long time, a great sadness inside of him that he didn't know where it was coming from. Was it loneliness? Surely he wasn't lonely after only a few days, was he? Finally, a tapping at the window brought him out of his thoughts; he opened the curtains to peek out and was delighted to see his snowy owl, Hedwig.

Hedwig hooted when Harry opened the window for her, and quickly hopped into the room before flying up and perching herself on Harry's shoulder. Harry reached up and petted her left wing, running a gentle hand over her brilliant white feathers. Somehow, someway, his noble pet knew when to come and just what to do to comfort Harry, an ability that Harry appreciated immensely. The pair sat there for nearly an hour until Xenophilius Lovegood came into the room, wearing a strange pair of eyeglasses that seemed to look like turtle shells.

"Hey," Harry said, before opening up the window and watching as Hedwig flew away, thankful for her companionship.

"You don't have class?" Xenophilius asked, gathering his things up into his hand-made bag that was made out of the hide of some creature.

"Not until tomorrow." Harry shook his head in the negative, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I just have the Defense double period on Tuesdays."

"Lucky you," Xenophilius replied, looking over to Harry and hoisting his bag over his shoulder. "By the way, I meant to tell you, cool trunk. It looks a lot like the trap that Cobalt Knighthood used when he captured a whole school of moon frogs."

"Wow, really? I didn't know that." Harry smiled, amazed at how similar Xenophilius was to Luna, his future daughter. It was eerie, in truth; it was almost as if they were the same person.

"Not many people do." Xenophilius replied, walking over to the door. "The Ministry tends to cover them up whenever someone captures one. Bye, Harry." He said, leaving the room and going to his next class.

A/N: As for Harry's parents, he'll meet them soon enough. He won't bombard them, however, as he'll get to know them from a distance first. And Derrick Jordan is not Lee Jordan's father…he is someone else's father, though he is related to Lee Jordan.

A/N 2: If you're wondering about Bellatrix, things will be explained in due time. I don't anticipate that she will be similar to how she is in many other Bellatrix stories that you have previously read. Also, something is going to happen, meaning Harry will do something that will change the interaction between Harry and Bellatrix, be it for the worse or the better. It won't be for many chapters in the future, however.


	6. A Prince, a Slug, and a Bat

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Bellatrix is by no means nice. She's just not insane yet. You'll see what I mean in a few chapters.

S/N 2: Sorry for the delay, but this chapter did not turn out how I wanted it to. I don't really like it, but luckily it's short so I'll be able to get another chapter out within a week or two.

Chapter 6: A Prince, a Slug, and a Bat

At around six o'clock that night, Harry headed down to the Great Hall for dinner, and as he walked, he noticed that a boy in front of him looked incredibly familiar. "Sirius?" He questioned in a quiet voice, but immediately cringed when he heard that it was louder than he had intended.

The boy turned around at Harry's words, and Harry instantly realized that it wasn't Sirius. This boy, while having the recognizable look of a Black, was a little shorter and a little less handsome than Sirius was, though there was certainly a very deep resemblance between the pair. _Is that Sirius' brother? What was his name_, he thought to himself, trying to think back to what Sirius had told him about his brother that one day in Grimmauld Place. "Oh, I'm sorry; I thought you were your brother for a second. You're Regulus, right?" Harry said, recalling the name that Sirius had spoken about.

"Ah, right," Regulus nodded, awkwardly looking over to Harry. The dislike that he felt for Sirius was written plainly on his face, something which did not surprise Harry due to the brothers' differences in opinions about Voldemort and the war on blood purity. "Do I know you?"

"No, I guess you don't," Harry said, shaking his head in the negative. Then, realizing that perhaps he should introduce himself so that he didn't sound like a creep, he opened his mouth and said, "I'm Harry."

"Nice to meet you," Regulus replied, giving a polite nod of his head, before walking the opposite way down the hall without another word.

With a raised eyebrow, Harry continued on towards the Great Hall, and when he arrived, he took a seat next to Xenophilius Lovegood at the Ravenclaw table, who was sitting across from Derrick Jordan. Harry grabbed a roll from the basket, buttered it and took a bite, his eyes roaming over the Great Hall as he chewed. He saw a girl walking down the aisle between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables that looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite place the face. "Xenophilius," Harry said quietly, keeping his eyes on the girl, who seemed to be walking with her boyfriend as the young man was holding her hand next to her. "Who is that?"

Xenophilius looked up from his book and over to where Harry was gesturing, before his eyes fell upon the pair that Harry had inquired about. "Alice? That's Alice Prince." He answered, knowing who the couple was that Harry was referencing.

_Alice Prince?_ Harry thought to himself, wondering where he recognized the woman from as he had never heard of the name Prince before. "And who is that walking with her?" He questioned once more, his eyes drifting over to the boy, who was tall and thin with short dark hair.

"Frank Longbottom." Xenophilius answered Harry, his eyes going back down to his book.

"That's Alice and Frank Longbottom?" Harry murmured to himself, amused at seeing Neville's parents as teenagers; then, almost involuntarily, his gaze moved over to the Slytherin table, where he watched Bellatrix Black, Rabastan Lestrange, and an older boy who had his back towards Harry eat their dinner. He tried to stop the anger that was bellying inside of him at the thought of Neville's parents in St. Mungo's, but he struggled to control himself and his face began to turn bright red. He tried and tried, but still his anger grew, until he thought he was going to burst. Finally, after a few deep breaths and a sip of cold water, he managed to contain himself without anyone noticing him, and after pushing his angry thoughts to the back of his mind, he resumed his dinner in relative peace.

Just then, a group of Gryffindor's came into the Great Hall, led by a tall, handsome boy with such unruly black hair that it made him look like he had just gotten off of his broom. Immediately recognizing the boy, Harry stared at his father as he and Sirius walked towards the Gryffindor table, an aura of arrogance between them that Harry couldn't help but notice. They really did think of themselves as better than everyone, a fact that didn't surprise him, having witnessed it firsthand while watching Snape's memory during his fifth year. Upon reaching the table, they took a seat next to a shaggy boy, Remus Lupin, whom was already sitting at the table while a smaller, fatter and considerably less attractive boy sat across from them, hanging onto their every word as they spoke amongst one another.

A sudden surge of excitement entered him as he realized that he would soon be able to meet his parents proper, though he knew it would be a bit strange being older than they were. His eyes roamed over the entire Gryffindor table, trying to find his mother, and when his gaze fell upon the back of a red-headed girl that was talking animatedly with her friends, he knew it was her. He watched as she continued to talk, hoping that she would turn around so he could get a better view of her, but she never did, forcing him to content himself with what he could see. During the rest of the night, he kept looking over at his mother and father, trying to see if he could get to know them without actually talking to them, trying to see if he could spot any of their quirks or habits. After nearly all of the students had emptied out from the hall, he finished his dinner and walked back up to the Ravenclaw Common Room with Xenophilius, knowing that he would meet his parents soon—not that day and maybe not even the next day, but soon.

Speaking of the next day, it found Harry sitting in his potions class in the dungeons that was comprised of sixth years from both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. He sat at the back of the room, next to a Hufflepuff that looked vaguely familiar, though Harry couldn't quite figure out just who it was. He had noticed over the previous few days that he recognized a lot of people as he suspected he would, but he couldn't always know just who it was or how he knew them. Generally, he was okay with that, but sometimes it annoyed him, knowing all these people without actually knowing them.

"Welcome, welcome, class." The potions professor said as he stood up from his wooden chair, smiling at all of them, gaining the room's attention immediately.

A small, fat man, he was a wizard named Horace Slughorn, who had a round face and a thin patch of hair on top of his head. He had gooseberry colored eyes, and an enormous silver mustache, which in addition to his girth, made him look like a walrus that was out of the water. He wore a beautiful and elegant brown robe that was adorned with golden buttons, and underneath, he wore green slacks with a white shirt, a green tweed vest, and a similarly colored bowtie. On top of his head was a muggle graduation cap that was crested with a brown tassel that reached his jaw and was tucked behind his ear. Overall, Harry was quite perplexed on what to make of the teacher, though he knew he would undoubtedly enjoy Slughorn much more than he had Snape.

After studying Slughorn, Harry noticed for the first time that, most unusually, the dungeon was already full of vapors and odd smells. He sniffed interestedly in the direction of two large, bubbling cauldrons that were next to the corner cupboard. As his nostrils flared, he saw a different gold-colored cauldron on another table at the front of the class that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled: somehow it reminded him simultaneously of the woody smell of a broomstick handle, of white chocolate, of silk, and of some fruit that he could not place. He found that he, along with the boy next to him, was breathing very slowly and deeply and that the potion's fumes seemed to be filling him up like a drink. A great contentment stole over him; he grinned up at Slughorn, who seemed to have noticed the same faces on nearly half of the class.

"Now then, now then, now then," Slughorn said, swishing his hands through the shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of _Advanced Potion-Making_." Harry took out his book, which was written by Libatius Borage, and then reached into his pack and grasped his scale and placed it onto his table.

"Now then, all of you come up here," said Slughorn, gesturing for the class to come up to the table that was next to the cupboard on the side of the room. "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you should be able to concoct after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Can anyone tell me what this one is?" He questioned, indicating the cauldron on the right side of the table.

Harry moved past it, and saw what looked like a cauldron of plain water boiling away inside. "It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," A Hufflepuff boy said, answering after being pointed to by Slughorn.

"That's very good, lad, very good." Slughorn replied, happily, impressed by what the boy knew. He pointed to the cauldron on the other side of the table. "This one here is pretty well known…featured in a Ministry leaflets too."

This one Harry knew immediately, having witnessed its creation personally during his second year at Hogwarts. It was a slow-bubbling, mud-like substance that was much, much thicker than the Veritaserum that was to its left. "It's Polyjuice Potion, sir." He said, confident that he was correct in his assessment.

"Excellent, Mr. Dumbledore, excellent." Slughorn beamed, and then walked over to the front of the classroom, to the golden cauldron that was emitting that amazing scent that filled Harry up. "Now, can anyone tell me this one here?"

"It's Amortentia!" The same Hufflepuff boy from before blurted out without being called on, having a giddy smile lacing his face. "It's the most powerful love potion in the world."

"Quite right you are!" Slughorn agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically. "I'm sure you all can recognize it by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen." Harry cocked an eyebrow at that, having never even noticed the sheen, let alone think of it as a hint to Amortentia. He did, however, notice that the steam was rising in strange spirals, a characteristic of many love potions in the world, which made him feel like a bit less of a failure. Slughorn continued, with his gaze roaming over all of the students as their nostrils flared in appreciation. "It's supposed to smell differently to each of you, according to what attracts you. Of course, Amortentia doesn't really create love, since it is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, instead, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession, which makes it probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room. Oh yes," he nodded his head, which made the fat under his chin jiggle. "When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

Harry got on his tippy toes and noticed that there was another, much smaller black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk. The potion within was splashing about merrily; it was the color of molten gold, and large drops were leaping like goldfish above the surface, though not a particle had spilled. "Sir, what is that one?" He questioned Slughorn, pointing to the cauldron that sat alone.

"Oho," said Slughorn with a smile on his face. Harry was sure that Slughorn had not forgotten about the potion, but instead waited until he was questioned to reveal it for dramatic effect. "Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis, otherwise known as liquid luck." The entire class seemed to be interested by the potion, as they all seemed to stand up a little straighter to try and get a peek at it. "It's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis, desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed…at least until the effects wear off."

"Once I learn how to brew it, I am going to drink it all the time." The Hufflepuff boy who was sitting next to Harry snickered, earning a laugh from most of the class.

"Ah, that cannot be, m'boy." Slughorn said in a jovial tone, his face forming into a smile. "Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence, too much of a good thing, you know. It's highly toxic in large quantities, but taken sparingly, and very occasionally, it can be supremely beneficial. Also, over time people tend to grow immune from its effects, meaning if you take it consistently, after a long, long time it'll stop working on you."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked a Ravenclaw girl that Harry had not really met. She was a pretty witch, with blonde hair, a button nose and a slight build, and though Harry had not talked to her just yet, he could tell she was a kind person.

"Twice in my life," Slughorn answered, nodding his head in the affirmative. "Once when I was twenty-four and once when I was fifty-seven—two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast, two perfect days." He looked off into the distance, seemingly transported back to those two days for a moment. Then, he shook his head and returned his attention to the students. "And that is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson today." There was an outbreak of whispering amongst the students, each excited to have the chance to have one perfect day, compliments of the Felix Felicis. Slughorn reached into his robes and pulled out a vial of the golden liquid, and then held it up for all to see. "One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis, enough for twelve hours of luck, from dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

"How do we get it?" One student asked, and Slughorn gestured for him to hold the question.

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions, such as sporting events, examinations, or elections, so the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only and then watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary." When he was done explaining his warning, he looked back to the student who had asked how they could get it. "Turn to page ten of your Advanced Potion-Making book and use the rest of the lesson to attempt the brew a decent Draught of Living Death. It is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. However, the person who does best will win little Felix here." He said, shaking the golden vial of potion in his hand. "I expect your entries on my desk by the end of the lesson. Off you go!"

Harry quietly walked back to his table and took a seat on his stool, and the flipped open his book until he reached page ten. He drew his cauldron towards his place at the table and then began to add the weights necessary for his scale. He read the ingredients that he needed and then reached into his pack to take out everything, and when he was done, he began to add them all into the cauldron. When he was done creating the basic mixture, he chopped valerian roots and then poured them all into the cauldron. The color of the potion transformed from a dull green into a sky blue colored liquid, which was mentioned in the book as the ideal quarter-way stage.

Just then, he heard the door open behind him and turned his attention to the person that entered, and was surprised to see Severus Snape. With his greasy hair, sallow skin, and hooked nose, he was easy to recognize, even with his young age. "Do you know where Professor Slughorn is?" Snape questioned Harry, his black eyes gazing down at the potion that Harry was attempting, seemingly interested by it.

Harry looked over to Snape for a moment, and a slight sneer appeared on his face, though he quickly moved his attention back to his potion in an effort to hide his distaste of the boy. "Yeah, he went to get a few things from his cupboard. He should be back any minute now," Harry answered, distractedly, trying to focus on the potion, hoping that he would be the one to receive the Felix vial.

"Oh," Snape whispered, walked up to Slughorn's desk and dropped off a piece of parchment, and then headed back towards the door. Before he reached it, however, he leaned towards Harry and whispered, "You know if you crush those sopophorous beans with the flat side of the silver dagger, it releases the juice much better than cutting them in half. And when you start stirring, add a clockwise stir in between intervals of seven counter-clockwise stirs."

"Ah, thanks." Harry nodded, surprised that Snape was offering his help. Snape shrugged and walked out of the room, apparently uninterested in accepting Harry's gratitude. Harry both knew how good of a potion maker Snape was and knew that he would have to take a chance in order to have a better potion than the rest of the class, so he threw all caution into the wind and followed the boy's advice, crushing the bean instead of cutting it. He then dumped the juices into the cauldron, which turned the potion into a smooth, black currant-colored liquid. Unsurprisingly, the color went from black to a bright purple after a few moments of simmering, which made Harry smile and completely trust the other tip that Snape had given him.

In the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that some students kept glancing around at what the rest of the class was doing, apparently in an effort to get an advantage over the others. Before long, the entire room was full of bluish steam, which according to the book, meant that the valerian roots were releasing their juices. He turned his attention back to his potion and watched as it went from the bright purple color to a light shade of lilac, exactly as it was supposed to do, at least according to the book. He then took his long wooden spoon and began to stir it counterclockwise, and after seven rotations, stirred it exactly one time clockwise, before returning to the counterclockwise rotations seven times. At once, the potion turned a pale pink, making Harry smile again, and then he added another clockwise stir before stirring seven times counterclockwise once more.

Next to him, he saw that the Hufflepuff boy's potion looked like liquid licorice. He glanced around and as far as he could tell, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his, which he hoped was a good sign. "And time is….up!" Slughorn shouted as he returned to the classroom. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn slowly walked around the tables, peering into the cauldrons and occasionally giving the potions a stir or a sniff. He made no comment, instead stayed silent in his assessment of his students' work, except for an approving nod that he had given the smart Hufflepuff boy who had spoken up in class. He came to Harry's table last since it was in the back of the room, and smiled ruefully at the tarlike substance that was in his neighbor's cauldron. Then he saw Harry's cauldron, and a look of incredulousness spread over his face, making him take a closer look at the potion.

"We have a clear winner!" He gasped, elated at Harry's work, thoroughly impressed by the texture and color of the draught. "I take it you are a dab hand at potions, you are! Here you are then—one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well." He said, slipping Harry the tiny bottle of golden liquid, which Harry in turn slipped into his inner pocket. "Very well, you can all be on your way now; I'll see you next week!"

Harry grinned when Xenophilius Lovegood congratulated him, and once he cleaned up all of his things, he headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. Apparently, he was the only one in his dorm that had a schedule like he had, so he ate lunch by himself. When he was halfway through, he received a letter from a school owl that read:

_Harry,_

_Can you please come see me in my office in the Divination Tower when you are finished?_

_Regards,_

_Professor Pythia Telemus_

A/N: This chapter is important for numerous reasons. Firstly, its meant to show that Slughorn is exactly the same in this time as he was in Harry's normal time; secondly, it introduces a character that will be relatively important over the next few chapters; and three, its mean to have Snape and Harry meet for the first time.

A/N 2: Alice Prince is Eileen Prince's (Snape's mother) cousin, making Neville Longbottom and Severus Snape cousins.


	7. One Year Too Far

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: This is the last chapter of the "prologue" so the story truly starts after this chapter.

S/N 2: Sorry for the delay, I have work that I have to do that prevents me from writing as much as I would like. I have some off time, however, so I should be getting out a few chapters in the next couple of weeks.

Chapter 7: One Year Too Far

Harry cocked an eyebrow in wonderment at the letter, but ignored it for the moment and continued eating like normal. When he was finished, he got up from his seat and headed out of the Great Hall, passing by Bellatrix Black as he walked through the doors. She stared at him with an expressionless look, but otherwise disregarded him, a fact that made him quite content. Once out of the Hall, Harry bolted up the stairs and zoomed towards the Divination tower, and when he arrived outside of the specified office, he gave the door two loud knocks. "Come in," he heard a muffled voice say from behind the door.

"Hello?" Harry said, as he peeked his head into the room. "You wanted to see me, ma'am?" Harry questioned respectively, seeing a dark haired woman sitting in a high-backed chair behind a large oak desk. There was a porcelain bowl placed on the left side of the desk, while the right side housed a large crystal ball that had white smoke swirling inside of it, looking akin to storm clouds.

"Ah, Harry, how are you?" The professor questioned, standing up to greet him. She had streaks of gray in her hair, and her face was somewhat wrinkled, though Harry couldn't wager a guess on what exactly her age was. On looks alone, she looked middle-aged, but Harry could sense the air of wisdom that was around her, which made her seem much older than she probably was.

"I'm fine professor, and yourself?" Harry replied, somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. He had only seen her once before at the Welcoming Feast, as she, for whatever reason, did not normally eat dinner in the Great Hall with the rest of the faculty of Hogwarts.

"I'm good, very good." She smiled to him in an effort to ease his nerves, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk as she sat back down in her chair. "I'm sure you are wondering why I called you to my office. Well, I just wanted to meet you and talk to you for a bit."

"I figured as much." Harry nodded in understanding, having expected to meet his Head of House eventually.

"My name is Pythia Telemus, and as you can probably tell, I am the Divination teacher here at Hogwarts and the head of the Ravenclaw House." The witch said, leaning over her desk to be closer to Harry. "I am wondering if you still had the same intentions of becoming an Auror, as I assume you want to be by the courses that you have chosen to take?"

"Ah," Harry said, internally wondering how she knew that. "I don't really know, to be honest. I wanted to be an Auror, to help people, but I've been thinking a lot lately. I don't know if I want to fight for a living, you know? Magic should be something you enjoy, something that brings fun and happiness and goodness, not something that you use to hunt people. I know that the people you'd be hunting as an Auror are bad, evil men, but still, you're fighting them and hunting them, its something that I'm willing to do if need be, but I don't know if its something I want to do for a living."

"Understandable," She supposed, allowing Harry to voice his thoughts, recognizing that at the age Harry was, teenagers had their own opinions and ideas that needed to be expressed, rather than suppressed like most her age believed.

"I mean, I don't know yet." Harry admitted, wanting to be as truthful as he could be. "Is it possible that I can take the same courses without actually becoming an Auror?"

"Of course," She nodded instantly, a small smile appearing on her face. "You have a great selection of classes, which can be used for a wide variety of professions. You are still so young, you need not have to know what you plan on doing with your life just yet."

"Thank you," Harry grinned, appreciating the professor for listening to him and informing him about his options.

"No problem, Harry." Pythia smiled, looking over to the younger wizard. "Unless you have something else, I called you here just to meet with you and that's all I really wanted to discuss with you."

"Right," Harry said, rising to his feet. "Bye then, professor."

Pythia grinned up at him, following him with her gaze as he bent down and collected his bag from the floor. "My door is always open for you, Harry, no matter what it is that you want to talk about."

Harry walked over to the door and rested his hand on the knob, before turning around, and saying, "Thank you again, ma'am."

"I mean that, Mr. Potter." She said, staring at Harry with knowing eyes.

"Thank you," Harry nodded dumbly, opening up the door and taking a few steps out in the hallway. As he walked down the hall, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the office that he had just left. "Wait…she called me Potter. But…how…did she know?" Harry whispered, startled by that revelation. He didn't believe that Hagrid or Dumbledore would have told anyone, regardless of Professor Telemus being Harry's Head of house, which meant that she had found out another, unknown way.

Not worrying about it until later, Harry made his way to his room after that, and when he arrived, he took off his school robes and threw on some more comfortable clothes. As he turned towards his bed, his trunk caught his eye, and he was suddenly afflicted with a queasy stomach. He slowly walked over to his bed and laid down, crossing his arms behind his head as he relaxed. He bit his lip, as his eyes drifted to the foot of his bed, where he knew his trunk was resting just below his line of sight.

It had been nearly a month since he had last gone down into the library after he first arrived in the past. Other than that one time, he had yet to delve into the secrets of his trunk, and by proxy, to open the journal that Remus had left for him. He knew in his heart that it was nearing the time to overcome his fear and anger, but was that time now? He wasn't quite sure, and there he was, contemplating that thought as he stared up at the ceiling, his hands under his head.

Suddenly, he jumped off of his bed, took three steps until he reached his trunk and then popped open the lock that would grant him access to the library. He jumped down the ten feet to the floor and landed gruffly, and then walked slowly over to the table in the center of the chamber. His eyes fell upon the leather bound journal as he neared the wooden table; he knew that it was time to confront Remus, to talk to the werewolf for the first time since he was sent back in time.

Feeling ready to finally do this, he grabbed the Remus journal and opened it up as he prepared the quill that was next to the journal to write. _"I understand why you did this, Remus."_ He scrawled, not really knowing what to say or how to start the conversation. _"I just wish you would have told me, warned me beforehand."_ The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished, leaving not a trace.

"_It was the only way I knew how to make things right. I'm sorry."_ Black ink scrawled in response, coming from the very pages itself, oozing back out of the page. It reminded Harry of the Riddle journal immensely, but he could tell the slight differences that the pair had, though he couldn't explain in words what exactly the differences were. When he experienced the Riddle journal, he felt overloaded with excitement and feelings, as if the journal was tapping into them itself. Here, however, he was feeling exactly as he felt before he began to write.

"_I was mad at you, so very angry, but I guess, I guess I'm just here to say that you are forgiven." _Harry wrote back, not really knowing if he meant it as truly as he was letting on—on one hand, he would miss Ron and Hermione dearly, as well as all the other wonderful people he was connected with in his own time, but he also knew that he had a chance to change things, to right countless of wrongs that were committed by Voldemort before they even happened. _"I just wanted you to know that I'm not mad at you anymore."_

"_Thank you, Harry." _Black ink again appeared, before disappearing into the nothingness once more.

Harry bit the end of his quill, wondering what else he should say. He studied the journal for a brief moment, amazed of the magic that it possessed: he assumed that Remus has just copied the magic that created the Marauder's Map, but he had no way to be sure. As he continued to study the journal, a thought popped into his head, and he furiously began to write. "_I wanted to know…what should I do about my parents? How should I greet them? Meet them?"_

"_Aren't you in Gryffindor?"_ The black ink Remus replied, and if the ink could show emotions, Harry knew it would be curious.

"_No, I'm in Ravenclaw."_ He scrawled back without hesitation.

"_That's very strange, but you should still be in the same classes as them, right?" _The black ink said, and then just under, continued to scrawl one letter at a time, forming into sentences. "_So just wait, and sooner or later, you'll have your chance to get to know them. You don't want to rush at them, though, because both James and Lily were suspicious of people to some degree, and they'll surely be drawn away from you if you aren't tactful."_

Harry bit the end of his quill, a nervous tick that he had developed ever since entering the wizarding world, as he deeply wondered what Remus had meant._ "I'm older than them, how could I be in the same classes as them?"_

"_You're not in the same year as them? But, no, you're supposed to be, I made it that way." _The writing paused for a second, and then disappeared, before new letters appeared in their place._ "I'm sorry Harry, I must have messed up, I never intended for you to not be in the same year as Lily and James. What year is it?" _

"_1975."_ Harry answered, raising an eyebrow.

"_I sent you too far by one year; I meant it to be 1976 when you arrived." _The black ink wrote, admitting to Harry Remus' mistake.

"_So you think I should wait?"_ Harry scrawled, remembering how the Sorting Hat thought that he would learn about his parents more by being in a different house than them.

"_Those were dark times back then, and while Lily always saw the good inside of people, sometimes even she couldn't move past her human instincts to distrust people in dark times. Watch and listen, and be yourself and I am sure that fate will give you the opportunity to meet your parents."_ Remus scrawled back, before it disappeared, with new writing taking its place just moments later. _"Remember to make sure not to divulge who you are, though, because I don't know what the ramifications would be if Lily knew she was going to have a child with James before she was pregnant with you."_

"_Thank you, Remus."_ Harry wrote, appreciative of the advice that Remus had given him. He didn't know if he was truly forgiving of Remus just yet, regardless of what he had written, but he was certainly a bit more understanding of why the werewolf had done what he had done.

"_Anytime, Harry, I am always here for you."_ The black ink appeared, wanting to convey to Harry that the journal was to be used however the younger wizard liked.

"_Bye Remus."_ Harry scrawled, wanting to leave so he could think about what Remus had told him in how to go about meeting his parents.

"_Bye Harry." _The blank ink said, before disappearing until Harry called on it once more.

Feeling content with his interaction with Remus for the time being, he closed the journal and headed out of the trunk, throwing a quick glance at the items that Dumbledore had left for him. Knowing that he would have to go through them again eventually, he pulled himself out of the trunk and closed it behind him. Just as he closed the top of the trunk, two of his dorm mates came into the room, both complaining about the amount of homework they had been given. Smiling, Harry joined in the conversation, and before long, it was nighttime and he was tucked away in his bed fast asleep.

The next day Harry went to Herbology in the morning, a class which was taught by Professor Herbert Beery. He was an older man that had been teaching at Hogwarts since the time when Armando Dippet was the Headmaster, and had a love of theatrics, oftentimes at the consternation of his students. The class was made up of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, and the first assignment was to create a skit about the uses of a particular plant that they had used before and would be studying in more detail during the year. Harry had been partnered with Alice Prince for the assignment, and had drawn the Shrivelfig plant, which only had one use that Harry knew: its roots were the main ingredient in the Shrinking Solution.

The pair's skit was quite simple: after Harry had announced himself as a Shrivelfig plant, Alice came and pretended to pick him from the garden, all the while whistling that she was going to shrink something, though she didn't know what. It lasted only about a minute, and when it was done, they were both happy to be off the stage. The professor gave them both a passing mark for the skit, though he did say that Harry could use some acting lessons, a suggestion that Harry quickly forgot.

When class was finished, Harry exited the greenhouse and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch. "Hey, Ravenclaw!" A voice called out to him, though Harry did not turn around. "Hey, you!"

"Me?" Harry questioned interestedly, spinning around to meet the voice. About ten feet away stood Severus Snape, his sallow face curled up into a sneer that Harry guessed was directed towards him.

"No, the Ravenclaw next to you," Severus Snape snapped, walking up to Harry and stopping a few feet away from him. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?" Harry asked confusedly, not knowing what it was that Snape was talking about.

"The suggestions I gave you in your potions class," Snape drawled, not amused by Harry's stupidity. He had little patience for idiocy from a Slytherin, let alone from someone of a different house such as Harry.

"Oh yes, they did," Harry nodded, a large smile appearing on his face, happy that he was the one that earned the vial of golden luck.

"I've been wanting to try them for the longest time, but never got the opportunity until then. Don't think I helped you for any other reason than that and don't expect anymore help either," Snape sneered, walking away, his school robes billowing in his wake.

"I won't," Harry whispered, before making his way to the Great Hall, where he was meeting his dorm mates to eat.

Thursday was his first N.E.W.T-level Transfiguration and it was his only class of the day, which was a double session after lunch. Like many of his other classes, it was with the Hufflepuffs, and Harry sat in the middle of the room, his table being next to the smart Hufflepuff boy from the Potions class a few days prior. "Hello class," McGonagall said, walking into the classroom. Her black hair was pulled into a tight bun and she wore the same green robes that she would in Harry's normal time. "This year we will be working on the complex field of Animation, otherwise known as bringing life to the inanimate. It will be demanding and it will not surrender its secrets easily, but I am sure with hard work and practice, you all will do quite well. I also expect you to not only master the spells verbally, but also nonverbally, likewise can be said in your Charms classes, I am sure."

She walked over to the small cat statute that was sitting on her desk, and she quietly swished her wand over it. Immediately, the cat jumped to life, though it was still made of the same ceramic material that it was composed of before being animated. "As you can tell, the difference between transfiguring an inanimate object to a living animal and animating the object is that the object that is animated still keeps its characteristics, making this branch a much more difficult branch than you learned during your third year." She paused in her speech and, without so much as a word, she moved her wand and the cat jerked back into the same position it was before, completely inanimate.

"Professor," The smart Hufflepuff said, raising his hand into the air. Harry stared over at the boy, and likened him to Hermione, though he could tell that the boy was just intelligent, rather than a genius know it all like Hermione was. As such, Harry could see that the boy didn't get on the teachers' or students' nerves as much as Hermione did. The light from the sun that was entering the room through the windows flashed against a small pin that the boy had on his robes, and Harry squinted to see that it was a Prefect's Badge.

"Yes, Milton?" McGonagall said, giving Milton a smile. Harry cocked an eyebrow at that, because in his time, McGonagall usually shot down questions while she was talking, not accept them warmly with a smile. _Perhaps_, Harry reasoned to himself, _the war had made her harder than what she was before some of her former students were killed by Voldemort._

"Forgive me, but I thought we were supposed to learn Conjuration this year, rather than Animation." Milton Curd questioned with a slight tone of curiosity in his voice.

"You would be correct, but I decided to change the schedule under the circumstances." McGonagall said darkly, referencing Voldemort, who was at the height of his power. "So this year you will be learning Animation, while next year, assuming you all make it through, you will learn Conjuration." She put her wand inside her robes, and walked over to the podium at the front of the room, where she flipped through the pages of the book that was on the podium. "Now, if you would all open your book to page 98, you'll be able to read about the history of the field of Animation. Originally, it was used to animate terracotta warriors in ancient China, and was developed by the Chinese Emperor's Sorcerers' as a way to defend the kingdom."

The rest of the session went similar to that, with McGonagall lecturing about the history of Animation. Harry paid little attention to it, preferring instead to read about the application of Animation and the spells necessary to do it. He learned through his reading that apparently Animation depends upon four characteristics: the size of the object; the substances of which the object was composed; what the object itself was; and finally, the purpose of animation. If you didn't have or know one of the characteristics, it was much more difficult to animate an object than it would be if you had all four. Overall, Harry left the class with a sense that it was going to be a very difficult year for him in Transfiguration, a thought that was mirrored in the minds of the rest of the sixth year students who were taking Transfiguration, as well.

The day passed and before Harry knew it, it was Friday morning and he was sitting in Charms class, along with the rest of the Ravenclaws. Unfortunately, the class was shared with Slytherins, and even worse yet for Harry, Bellatrix was also in the class. Luckily for Harry, however, he was nowhere near the witch as she sat in the front row with Rabastan Lestrange and Evan Rosier. Sighing, Harry turned his attention to his book, which he flipped open and turned through the chapters, admiring the illustrations that lined some of the pages.

"Hey, Harry." A male voice said, taking the open seat next to Harry.

Harry looked up from the book and gave a smile to Derrick Jordan, his desk mate in Defense Against the Dark Arts and one of his dorm mates. "How are you?" He questioned with raised eyebrow, wondering how the boy was.

"Bad, I've been bombarded with homework." Derrick sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hands. He ruffled through his bag and took out his book, along with a quill and a bottle of blue ink. "It's only been a week and I already have more work than I did all of my first year."

"Tell me about it, you should see how much work I have for Transfiguration." Harry agreed with a shake of his head. "You're lucky you don't take it."

"You're lucky you don't take Ancient Runes." Derrick muttered, giving Harry a sideways glance. "I have to translate an entire book of four hundred pages by the end of the month."

"Well," Harry laughed, conceding that Derrick's assignment was much worse. "I guess no one ever said N.E. would be easy."

"Welcome, welcome." Professor Filius Flitwick said, standing up on his chair for the class to see him. "I trust you all had a safe summer, and those you love did as well." He hopped down off of his chair and walked to the front of the class, having set up the tables so every student would be able to see him. "Charms is a very delicate subject, where a slight twitch of your hand or a stutter on your lips can lead to disastrous consequences. We will be going over very difficult charms throughout the year, made all the more impossible due to the nonverbal requirement that I expect out of you. Because of the dangers involved, I plead to you to do the assigned work that I give you, which will secure everyone's safety. Even so, while I want us to be safe, I also want us to have fun, so do not be afraid to enjoy yourselves while in my classroom."

He gave the class a smile, with most of the students returning it to him, liking the good-natured professor. "With all of that being said, let me introduce you to the first charm that we will be studying this year. It is called the Water Jet Charm, and the incantation is 'Aguamenti'. You can see the effects of the spell on page 702 in your books."

Harry mindless turned to page 802, not having paid much attention to what Flitwick was saying. His gaze moved about the paper, looking for the Water Jet Charm before stopping on an interesting spell called the Raising Waters Charm. He started to read about it, learning that the Raising Waters Charm was a more powerful charm that allowed water to be controlled by the caster, and if the charm was done properly, the water could actually transform into a semi-sentient beast made completely from the water.

"Page 702," Derrick whispered to Harry, who shook the cobwebs from his head and turned to the page that Flitwick had originally said. He quickly jotted down the page number that held the Raising Water Charm onto a piece of parchment, intending to read more about it later when he found the time.

Before long, the session was finished, and Harry began to gather his things up to leave. "We're going to fly our brooms tonight if you're interested." Derrick mentioned to Harry, as he packed up his bag.

"It might rain." Harry replied dully, having seen the forecast in the Daily Prophet, as told by numerous Daily Prophet Seers whose only job was to forecast the weather.

"Really? That's a shame." Derrick sighed, walking away from Harry and out of the room with his head down, apparently extremely disappointed.

Harry grinned and flung his bag over his shoulder, and walked towards the door himself. He reached it at the exact same time that Bellatrix and her gang of Slytherins did, and he gestured for her to go ahead of him. "After you," He said in a sarcastic manner, slightly rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks," Bellatrix replied distractedly, as she read a note that Rabastan had just passed over to her.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, instead just waiting his turn to leave. He headed towards the Ravenclaw Common Room, his stomach growling a bit. It was still another hour until dinner, forcing him to distract himself from his hunger. He took a seat on one of the navy couches that were situated around the fireplace, and he relaxed for a bit, closing his eyes. "Hey Harry," He heard a female voice say from the doorway, but when he opened his eyes, no one was there.

"Who was that?" He questioned to himself, before shrugging and closing his eyes once more.

A/N: To the anonymous review- Harry never made that potion that way before. This takes place immediately after OOTP, not Half-Blood Prince. So crushing the beans and the extra stirs was new to him.


	8. Meeting the Stag

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I have no idea what schedule I'm going to release chapters, but be on the look out, a chapter could be up as soon as next week.

S/N 2: Remember, everything is going to happen slowly over time.

Chapter 8: Meeting the Stag

The weekend passed unfathomably slow as a rainstorm prevented any of the students from leaving the castle. Harry tried to use his time to get to know his dorm mates, but it seemed like the only one interested in being his friend was Xenophilius Lovegood, as the rest were often times too busy or not in the common room. Xenophilius, meanwhile, was all too willing to discuss with Harry the heliopath army that the Ministry was gathering, which Harry couldn't help but laugh at and remember the various loony things that Luna had told him in his own time. However, even with Xenophilius' willingness to share his views, Harry often found himself alone in his bed during the day, feeling a bit lonely and missing his friends.

On Monday, Harry entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and walked over to his desk, noticing that not many people were there yet. He looked at the clock that was on the professor's desk and sighed when he saw that he was a bit early, still ten minutes until the class was supposed to start. He looked around at the other students, and his gaze fell upon Bellatrix Lestrange, or rather Bellatrix Black, who looked up from the book that she was reading and made eye contact with Harry as if she could sense someone was watching her.

Harry looked into Bellatrix's violet eyes, inwardly battling to prevent the scowl that he knew would be appearing on his face. He was trying to give her a chance, to give her the benefit of the doubt, but every time he looked at her face, he saw Sirius falling through the veil, he saw Neville and his parents in St. Mungo's, and perhaps most damaging of all, he saw himself casting the Cruciatus Curse upon her. There was so much history between them back in his time that he didn't know if he could forget it all and allow this Bellatrix a chance to prove herself, which amazed him because the pair had only been face to face once before. However, the gravity of her actions in his own time was such that, regardless of their lack of real contact with one another, their ramifications tainted his opinion of her. While he continued to stare at her, she returned to her book, and after a few more moments, his attention was drawn away from Bellatrix by the professor's voice, who had just entered the room from a back door that Harry had never noticed before then.

"Hello again, class." Professor Moonshine whispered, though it managed to carry to everyone in the room. Harry shivered at her voice, noticing for the first time that he was a bit creeped out by it. It wasn't a normal voice; it was a mix of the sweet tone of a young, bubbly woman, with the slowness and articulation of a wise old sage, and while it had the warmth of a friend, it also had the intonation of someone you didn't want to cross. "Today, we will continue where we left off during our last session: the dementors." She walked to the center of the classroom, giving the students a bright smile, which Harry thought seemed out of place, given the creature they were about to discuss. "Has there been anyone who have themselves seen or had a family member see a dementor?"

A boy in the back raised his hand, and Professor Moonshine pointed at him to speak. "My father took me to the trial of a Death Eater a few months ago, and I saw one drag the woman into the room and then drag her back out."

"Oh, right, I take it this was before they left their post at Azkaban, Gaspard?" Professor Moonshine nodded, having expected a family member of a student from the class to have had their soul sucked out, given that the dementors were freely attacking the country due to Voldemort's uprising.

"Right, ma'am," Gaspard answered with a quick nod, not wanting to remember anything more about that terrible day. Harry looked over to Gaspard, who was a Ravenclaw just like Harry, and he gave him a quick scan. His name was Gaspard Shingleton and he was a skinny boy, with pale white skin and blond, almost white, hair that was known for being inventive in Charms class. Harry knew that one day, though he didn't know when, Gaspard would invent the self-stirring cauldron and be studied in the first year's History of Magic course for his achievement.

"Well, as you all presumably know, the dementors are one of the foulest, evilest races of creatures that inhabit this earth." Professor Moonshine started, noticing the discomfort that Gaspard seemed to be in. "They infest the darkest, coldest, and filthiest places on the planet, and they glory in decay and despair. They drain the peace, hope, and most of all, happiness all around them. If you get too near to one, all of your good feelings will be sucked out of you, and if a dementor feeds on you long enough, it will reduce you to a husk of yourself, soulless and evil."

"How did their race come to be?" A witch in the center of the room questioned with a look of pure terror on her face.

"That I cannot answer as no one knows. Their ancient origins are shrouded in mystery: the first mention of them in the historical records is by the wizard historian Heromagus in 300 B.C. They were mentioned along with another group of creatures called rapturors, but all knowledge of that race has since been lost." Moonshine responded, fondling her mahogany wand in her hands. "I can tell you how dementors reproduce, however." She said, beginning to pace around the room. "They breed like fungi in the dankest places imaginable. The location of their breeding and the environs around it, such as a city or what have you, becomes foggy, especially foggy. So foggy in fact that you cannot even see ten feet in front of you while you are walking. This fog is also chilly, chilly enough to freeze the very water around them. Overall, it's an unnatural and unnerving setting, a place that reeks of evil."

"If they breed like you say that they do, how come they don't, you know, take over the world?" Derrick Jordan asked from his seat next to Harry. The entire class turned towards them and Bellatrix and Harry's eyes met for a brief moment once again, but Harry turned his attention to Professor Moonshine, breaking it off almost immediately.

"There are ways to prevent them from breeding; you just have to know when and where they are breeding." Professor Moonshine answered quickly, having witnessed the Ministry prevent the dementors from breeding once before. "While they are clothed in black cloaks and ripped linens, their true appearance is that of a decayed monster, with no eyes and only a large hole for a mouth. They are giants, measuring nearly 3 meters in height, and extremely strong, being able to lift a full grown wizard off of the ground with nothing but their decayed hands." She took a sip from the cup of tea that she had on her desk, pausing for a brief moment to collect her thoughts.

"Their strength, however, is just one of their capabilities and not nearly as dangerous as their most fearsome power." She continued, placing the mug back down onto her desk. "First, they have the power to turn the area dark and cold by eliminating all light and to freeze all that is around them. In the case of humans, it gives the witch or wizard a chill that not even the thickest of blankets would prevent. Second, since they have no eyes and therefore cannot see, they sense emotions and feed off your most positive thoughts and feelings to survive, forcing you to relive your most awful memories when in their presence. If kept within the area of the dementor for a prolonged period of time, oftentimes you will become depressed and be driven insane, which is difficult to reverse. A piece of chocolate will help out after an encounter with a dementor, but it will only work for short encounters, not prolonged ones as prisoners in Azkaban have experienced in the past. All of those abilities increase with each dementor that comes into the fold, making a pack of dementors much more potent than an individual one. Third, while they are humanoid and possess legs, they move by flying or gliding, their legs never touching the ground."

Harry watched as Professor Moonshine took a deep breath and turned her back to the class, apparently hesitant to give more information about the powers of the dementors. "You still haven't mentioned their worst power, professor." Harry mentioned, knowing that she had left one thing out: the kiss.

"Correct you are, Harry." Moonshine nodded as she turned around and looked over to Harry. "He is, of course, speaking of the Dementor's Kiss—the ability of the dementor to suck out your soul, your very essence. It will leave you in a permanent vegetative state, alive, but living out a fate worse than death. In such a state, you are incapable of thought or emotion, and there is no chance of reversing the condition. Most people would rather be dead than have been kissed." Moonshine saw that some of her students were a bit unnerved by the discussion, so instead of continuing on with the lecture, she gave them an assignment. "If you turn to page 16, you can read a brief description of the lethifold. I want you to begin an assignment that will be due in two weeks, analyzing the similarities and differences between a dementor and a lethifold."

"How long should it be, professor?" Xenophilius Lovegood questioned.

"Right, let's say two pages of parchment?" She replied, raising a questioning eyebrow. After seeing the happy expressions of her class, she grinned as well. "Good, then two pages of parchment, due on my desk in two weeks."

The rest of the session went uneventful, and before Harry knew it, he was back up to his room, having skipped lunch once again. He changed out of his robes upon entering his room, and sat on the windowsill, staring out over the Hogwarts grounds. In the distance, he could see the quidditch stadium, and he briefly wondered about how his quidditch team would do without him in the future. Before long, it was dinnertime, and he left the dormitory and headed down to the Great Hall. As he skipped down the marble stairs on level four, he saw a group of fifth year Gryffindors walking down the hallway. As he did a double take, he immediately saw his father, leading both Sirius and Peter with numerous books in their arms.

"Now, if we get you to change first, Peter, Sirius and I can manage to do it much quicker than you'll be able to. We're almost there, I can feel it. Almost…" Harry heard James whisper, and he raised an eyebrow, realizing that they were talking about becoming Animagi, having presumably been working on the transformation for a few years already.

"Oi, you're the new kid, eh?" Sirius said, looking over to Harry. Dumbly, Harry just nodded, too scared and surprised to respond. "Rumor is that you're Dumbledore's grandnephew, is that right?"

"Ah," Harry said, clearing his throat, regaining his wits. "Yeah, that's correct. And you are?" He questioned, making sure to hold a blank expression on his face.

"Sirius Black," Sirius said, puffing out his chest a bit. "And this here is James Potter, and that bumblekin behind us is Peter Pettigrew."

"Pleasure," Harry nervously said, not giving Peter Pettigrew a second look. He tried to hide his disdain for the man, a complete and utter disgust of him, knowing that it would be adverse to the development of his relationship with his father for the time being.

"We should get going," James nudged Sirius, moving his gaze down to the books in their arms. "Good to meet you, Dumbledore."

"Yeah, bye," Harry whispered as the trio ran off, not really knowing what to make of that exchange. Had he blown it? Should he have talked to his father or did he play it right? He pondered that question all through dinner and well into the night, and before he realized the time, he was laying in bed, his eyes halfway closed.

Upon awaking and readying himself for the day, Harry ate his breakfast quickly and headed towards the dungeons, where he had potions. It was an uneventful session, with Slughorn demonstrating the proper way to brew the Draught of Living Death. Harry noticed that Slughorn had used the back of his knife to get the juices out of the beans just like Snape suggested which made Harry respect Snape's knowledge of potions much more than he had in his own time. After the draught was finished, Harry looked at Slughorn's version and compared it to his and noticed that Slughorn's was much lighter than his was, a characteristic that he chalked up to not being able to finish stirring the potion as he had wanted to. Overall, he preferred Slughorn to Snape as teacher because he learned a lot more without the constant comments and snide remarks that Snape made a habit of sending his way in his own time.

Herbology was the next day, and then after that, the rest of week passed by in a blur, with Harry struggling to perform nonverbal animation in Transfiguration. While McGonagall wasn't nearly as strict as she was in Harry's normal time, she still criticized the students who she could tell hadn't done their homework before class. Luckily, Harry wasn't one of those people as McGonagall could tell that his struggling was a legitimate attempt, rather than lack of effort. Finally, then came Charms, with the class continuing to learn how to perform the Aguamenti spell nonverbally, which ended the week of classes.

"Welcome, class." Moonshine said the next week, standing up at the head of the class, in front of the chalk board. "As you will remember, last week we spoke about the dark creatures known as the dementors. We discussed the various abilities that they had, the most dangerous and menacing being their Dementor's Kiss, which takes away your soul and leaves you a shell of yourself."

"Do you eventually die?" A female Slytherin that Harry didn't know asked. Harry remembered that the Slytherin girl had had a look of pure terror on her face during the last class, clearly frightened of the Dementors.

"Yes," Moonshine nodded her head sadly. "And in a manner of speaking, you're as good as dead: you're nothing. Your body can survive for a time, but there is no one home. You don't think, you don't speak, you don't smile, you don't laugh, nor do you frown, because you can't, because you don't even know where or what you are. Now, as to the session assignment, does anyone know of the defense that you can use in case you are attacked by a dementor?" Harry looked around, not intending to answer the question, wanting the other students to answer instead. "Anyone?"

"Run away?" Derrick Jordan suggested, earning a chuckle from most of the class.

"That is a solution, yes, but not the one I was thinking of." Moonshine smiled, appreciating the joke. "Anyone else?"

"Professor?" A Slytherin boy in the back of the room said, raising his hand. "When I was researching the lethifold for my assignment, I came about the term 'Patronus'. Is that what you are talking about?"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Rosier, good job. The defense I was referencing is the Patronus Charm." Harry looked over to the kid, recognizing that name: Evan Rosier. He was a Death Eater who was killed before Voldemort's first fall at the hands of the Aurors who were hunting him. He was a medium-sized boy with light brown curly hair, which he allowed to grow out so that his curls covered his ears. While Harry hadn't spoken to him, the pair hadn't run into any troubles, though Harry knew it would only be a matter of time if he truly believed in the Death Eater ideals of blood purity.

Harry turned his attention back to Moonshine when she started to speak again, shaking the thoughts of Death Eaters out of his head. "The Patronus Charm releases an avatar-like being of pure silver energy that is fueled by the happy thoughts and memories of its caster: it protects you from the dementor's effects with your own thoughts. Further, it prevents any dementor from coming after you as they shy away from anywhere that a Patronus is. The funny thing is that you cannot choose what your Patronus looks like, it simply takes the shape of an animal that is meaningful to you—they can change shape only if a great emotional trouble or event has befallen upon you."

A whisper erupted throughout the class, and Moonshine allowed the students to calm down before she continued. "It is an impossibly tough charm to master, with many full aged wizards being unable to cast it successfully. Can any of you do it?" Moonshine questioned with a smile, not expecting anyone to raise their hand. Then, she watched as Harry tentatively put his hand up into the air, and her eyes narrowed on him in shock. "Yes, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"I can summon one." Harry answered with his eyes shifting about, cognizant of the fact that everyone was looking at him.

"Corporeal?" Moonshine asked, cocking a curious eyebrow at Harry, trying to see if he was telling the truth or not.

"Yes, a stag." Harry nodded, realizing that, even though he was in his sixth year, being able to summon a Patronus was still impressive.

"Really?" Moonshine replied, a small smile forming on her face. "Let's see, then. Everyone up, today's session is hands on." When everyone was up from their desks, she twirled her wand in the air and all of the desks jetted to the side, creating a large enough space for all of them to form a circle in. "Mr. Dumbledore, you're up."

"Should I do it verbally or nonverbally?" Harry asked her, moving into the center of the circle. He knew that all eyes were on him, but he was fine with it, feeling comfortable about teaching this spell. It was his spell; it was a charm that he prided himself on.

"You can do it nonverbally?" Moonshine asked, again in shock, this time truly impressed.

"It's the only one I can." Harry grinned sheepishly. Then, raising his wand, he did the proper motions, and said, "Expecto Patronum!" Immediately, a silver light erupted from his wand before condensing into a large stag, which pranced around the room and lingered for a few moments before disappearing.

"That was very, very impressive." Moonshine said, as the class broke out into whispers once more, all about Harry and his Patronus. Harry grinned when Derrick Jordan patted him on the back with a large smile on his face. "Now, class, this is an extremely difficult charm to handle, so do not become depressed if you do not learn it in a few weeks."

"It took me lots of sessions to learn it myself," Harry nodded, knowing from experience that it was a tough spell. He took a spot in the circle next to Xenophilius, who made room for Harry by moving over to the side.

"As you all heard, the charm's incantation is 'Expecto Patronum.'" Moonshine recited, fondling her wand in her hand. "The movements of the wand are a soft twitch, followed by a swish, and finished with an outwards thrust." She mimicked the motions for the class to emulate. "Go on, let's see."

The class did as they were shown, most of them coming close, with a select few missing the mark entirely. A Slytherin girl had the movements reversed, with the thrusting gesture coming first and the twitch coming last. "Professor, why isn't it working?" A Ravenclaw questioned with a dumbfounded look on her face, wondering why the silver Patronus wasn't coming out of her wand.

"It's because you don't have the proper mental state yet." Moonshine said, distractedly, as she helped out a Ravenclaw boy with his wand movements. When she was finished, she clapped her hands and smiled at the group. "Right, now that you have that figured out, let's move onto the tricky part."

She paced around the center of the room, critiquing every student's posture, making sure that they had their wand at the level needed for optimum performance. "When conjuring a Patronus, one must think of a memory or a desire that fills them with joy. The memory or desire can't just make you happy, no; it has to make you sublime. It has to make you want to relive that memory over and over again. It has to fill you with hope, with joy, with happiness unlike any other thought that you have. Those who are burdened with thoughts of evilness and darkness often times have difficulty performing this part, regardless of how magically powerful or talented they are." She looked down at her timepiece and sighed, knowing they were running out of time. "Okay, all we have time for are a few tries each. Remember, this is a difficult spell; you most likely won't get it until you practice it over and over again. If you manage to get an incorporeal Patronus, which will look like a silver mist or shield, consider yourself successful as many of-age wizards and witches cannot even do that."

There was a chorus of "Expecto Patronums" in the room immediately, every student trying to conjure their very own Patronus. While their forms were nearly perfect the first few times, they began to degenerate as they became frustrated with the lack of results, which Harry knew was one of the causes for failing. Harry gave a small smile of satisfaction as he watched Bellatrix Black flicking her wand in disgust, clearly having a hard time with the spell, regardless of her considerable skill.

"Okay, okay, I see that our time is almost up so I'm going to stop you there before someone pokes their eye out." Moonshine laughed, referencing the fact that many of the students were now just jerking their wands out into the air recklessly, forgetting the proper wand movements needed in their frustration at failing. "I was going to conjure another Patronus for you just to show you that it's possible and to make sure you're not discouraged, but perhaps I should let Mr. Dumbledore do if for me? Harry?"

"Right," Harry nodded, taking a step forward. Concentrating on the joy that he felt at the prospect of getting to know his parents and the rest of his family, he moved his wand and watched as his stag appeared from his wand in all of its silver glory.

"Thank you, Harry." Moonshine said, noticing that the boy actually did produce the Patronus nonverbally, a feat that she didn't know if even she could do. _That boy is talented_, she said to herself. "That is all for today. Remember, your essay is due on my desk next class!" She flicked her wand out once again, and all of the desks returned to their former spaces, allowing the students to pack up their books and other supplies.

"That was awesome, Harry." Gaspard Shingleton said, slapping Harry on the back in appreciation for Harry's Patronus.

"Yeah, I agree, good job." A Ravenclaw girl said from her desk as she picked up her bottle of ink and put it in her shoulder bag.

"Thanks." Harry shrugged, feeling slightly uncomfortable for all the praise, though not as much as he would have if he was known as the Boy Who Lived. He was warmer to receiving praise for his own work and merits, rather than the things he did as a baby that he couldn't even remember.

"I have to admit, that was pretty cool for a half-blood." Bellatrix muttered, looking at Harry as he gathered his things up into his bag. The other students filed out of the classroom door, each excitingly guessing about what form their Patronus was going to take. Harry thought he heard one boy say that he wanted his Patronus to be a dragon, making Harry wonder if a Patronus really could be that big. He knew that a man named Andros the Invincible claimed to have had a Patronus the size of the giant, but since there was no way to prove it, Harry had assumed that it was just a legend, rather than fact.

Harry furrowed his brows at Bellatrix's comment, wondering if he should take that as a compliment or an insult. Deciding to kill her with kindness, he said, "Thanks, I think." She gave Harry a pointed look, before turning around and walking out of the room, her bag hanging loosely off of her shoulder.

"Where did you learn to conjure a Patronus?" A voice from behind Harry said, making Harry turn his attention to it.

"Oh," Harry said, realizing it was Professor Moonshine. "A friend of mine taught it to me because a dementor is my boggart."

"Interesting, make sure you keep up the good work." She smiled to Harry and then looked down at her desk, apparently going back to work. After Harry said goodbye, he left, his stomach rumbling a bit in hunger.

As he was walking towards the Great Hall, he crossed paths with a young Gryffindor boy who had dark skin, dark eyes, and short black hair. "Kingsley?" Harry whispered to himself as the boy passed him by, wondering if it could be the Order of the Phoenix member that Harry knew in the future. Harry continued to watch the boy as he walked into the Great Hall and took his place at the Gryffindor table, two tables away from Harry at his Ravenclaw table. "Hey, Derrick, is that Kingsley Shacklebolt?" Harry questioned his Ravenclaw dorm mate, pointing over to the boy he had been studying for the past few minutes.

"I think that's his name, yeah, why do you ask?" Derrick asked back, cutting himself a piece of apple pie for dessert, presumably starting with dessert first.

"I was just wondering." Harry shrugged, giving a smile. His gaze moved down the Gryffindor table to the fifth years that were laughing about something, with Sirius slapping his knees. A flutter of excitement entered Harry's heart and for a brief moment he thought about going over there and talking to him once again, but then he stopped himself, knowing that it wouldn't be wise, that it would hurt him in the long run. Instead, he stayed put, content to watch from a distance, to learn about his father and Sirius from the outside perspective. He would stay true to that, stay true to the advice that he was given by Remus and wait until the time was right.

Later that night, he sat on the ledge of the window in his dormitory room, staring out at the environs of Hogwarts as the moon glowed from high above. He watched as the clocked ticked from 11:59 to 12:00 midnight, and he gave out a deep sigh. "September 19th," He whispered, missing his friend dearly. "It would have been Hermione's birthday. Happy Birthday, Hermione, wherever it is that you are."

A/N: Yes, yes, the meeting between father and son was anticlimactic, but don't worry, the meeting between mother and son will be a lot more…fiery.


	9. The Fiery Altercation

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the wait, my computer crashed and I did not have access to the story for a month. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a few chapters out within the next few weeks.

S/N 2: Bellatrix and Harry will interact more very soon, but there are no guarantees that they will ever actually be friends, you know. Bellatrix will, however, become a main character, and you will see some parts of the story from her point of view, akin to the way you saw the story from Sirius', Tonks', and Rabastan Lestrange's points of view in my previous story. In fact, the basis of their interactions is planted in this very chapter. Can you guess what it is?

Chapter 9: The Fiery Altercation

It was the last Friday of September that found Harry and Xenophilius Lovegood walking down the halls of Hogwarts, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. As they passed by a usually unused classroom, they both heard the cry of a girl and then laughter immediately following. With a furrowed brow, Harry paused and turned towards the door to enter, but was stopped by Xenophilius, who shook his head in the negative. "You don't want to go in there." He said, somewhat fearfully, knowing exactly what was going on behind the door.

"Why not?" Harry questioned, ignoring Xenophilius' suggestion and turning the knob, before entering the room.

What he found did not surprise him: there, in the room, was a group of five Slytherin boys who were watching as another of their members cursed a Gryffindor girl. "Can we help you?" One of the boys muttered in a threatening tone, looking over to Harry as they got up from the chairs they were sitting in to confront the intruder.

"You can let the girl go for starters." Harry said, not fearing his own safety, instead just worrying about the girl. He knew that he had faced off against many of these people when they were grownups, and because of that experience, he had no reason to be afraid of them as teenagers. Even still, he was quite astounded by how calm and collected he was acting, as instead of being overcome with emotion like he normally would have been in a similar situation back in his own time, he was handling himself well, knowing that overreaction wouldn't help him at all. However, despite his confidence, he knew that he wouldn't win in a fight against all of them, so he hoped that using magic instead of words would not be necessary.

"And if we don't, what are you going to do about it?" Another boy questioned, taking a step forward. Harry ran his eyes over the group, noticing that he knew two of them: one of them was Evan Rosier, and one was a future Ministry employee named Walden Macnair.

"I'll challenge one of you to a duel, I would imagine." Harry replied, noticing that the boy he was talking to seemed awfully familiar. _Rodolphus Lestrange_, Harry thought to himself, _that's who it is, Bellatrix's future husband_. He walked over to the girl that was staring at him with fear in her eyes and motioned for her to leave, which she promptly did, staggering out of the room as she ran before the Slytherins could react. "Now then, eat slugs!" Harry smiled, pointing his wand at the group of boys as a flash of dark green light erupted from its tip.

Almost immediately, the boy that was originally cursing the Gryffindor girl gagged and bent over in pain as a large, slimy slug came squirming out of his mouth. The other Slytherins jumped back in shock as they watched another slug rush its way out of their comrade's mouth, making him gag in displeasure once more. Then, slowly, one by one, they too started to belch out slugs, and Harry quickly ran out of the room, giving a small grin to himself, remembering how Ron once tried to hex Draco Malfoy the same way during their second year. Unfortunately in that particular instance, Ron had a broken wand and the hex backfired upon the redheaded boy himself. With a hop to his step and the rush of the situation leaving him, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall, all of the sudden feeling very hungry.

"I wonder when they're going to come after me?" Harry whispered to Xenophilius in between bites, earning a shrug and a look of fear from the blond wizard. His eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table, where the group of boys had yet to appear, and his gaze briefly caught Bellatrix Black, who was talking quietly with another Slytherin girl. Shaking his head, Harry returned to his food, knowing that he would have to be on guard for what he knew was coming.

The rest of the day passed surprisingly uneventfully, and before Harry knew it, he was sitting with Xenophilius at lunch in the Great Hall the next day, reading a book that he had been assigned in Charms. "Was it you?" The redheaded Lily Evans came running up to him, scowling slightly at him as she studied his face. "Putting Mary MacDonald under that curse like that?"

"What?" Harry questioned with his mouth agape, startled by the fact that his mother was talking to him. Her sudden appearance caught him off guard, and as such, he didn't know exactly how to handle the situation in which he found himself. He remembered that the Gryffindor girl from the day before was Mary MacDonald, and he quickly shook his head, trying to set the record straight. "No, no, I was helping her; it was that Mulciber kid who was cursing her." He said, having learned the names of the entire Slytherin gang from his Ravenclaw friends the night before.

"I told him not to go in there." Xenophilius muttered from next to Harry, making Harry turn his gaze from his mother to the blond wizard.

"Then you're almost as bad as Mulciber is." Lily snapped in a fiery tone, staring at Xenophilius with anger in her green eyes. "If the good people of the world won't take action, then who will step up and do it?"

"I did take action." Harry said, turning his attention from Xenophilius back to Lily. "I stepped in and helped her."

"Your eyes," Lily suddenly whispered, staring at Harry's eyes with a look of befuddlement. "They just, sort of flashed green like mine."

"They did?" Harry replied slowly, wondering what had happened. He hoped that his cover wasn't blown or anything like that as he had no idea what the ramifications of such a thing would be.

"That was strange." Lily muttered, and then shook her head, getting back to what she was there for. "So it wasn't you? I was told by Severus that it was you."

"Of course not, it was Mulciber and his Slytherin friends." Harry said, realizing immediately that she meant Severus Snape. _They're friends_, he questioned silently to himself, _why hadn't anyone told me that before? _Then, recognizing the implications of what Lily had just told him, he wondered why Snape was after him._ What have I done to him now?_

"They say they're just having fun, but they're evil…evil." Lily scowled, her green eyes moving over to a group of Slytherin boys that were walking out of the Great Hall. She didn't dislike all Slytherins, just a select group, but each day it was becoming harder and harder to differentiate that group from the rest of the Slytherins. "I didn't mean to accuse you."

"It's not a problem, really." Harry grinned, putting his hand out to her. This was his shot, the chance to really get to know his mother without it seeming…forced. "I'm Arold, Arold Dumbledore."

"Lily Evans." The redhead shook the proffered hand. "And I already know you, Xenophilius. I meant to ask, did you catch a glimpse of any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks during the summer?"

"No, but I will. I will." Xenophilius said with a faraway look in his eyes; Harry recognized it as the same look that Luna often got in her eyes when she would talk about her summer hunts with her father. It gave him comfort, really, having a something that reminded him of Luna so thoroughly. It made him feel less homesick and less confused by the situation.

"I should be going. I'm sorry again for accusing you, I'm just so angry that she was cursed like that." Lily apologized, giving Harry a small smile, hoping to have not offended the new student in any way.

"It's fine." Harry replied, watching as she walked away and out of the Great Hall, presumably heading back to either her common room or going after the Slytherins. "Weird." Harry whispered, feeling slightly awkward with having a conversation with his younger mother. He was thrilled, however, to have finally met her, which would hopefully open the door to him being able to talk to her on a relatively normal basis. That was his dearest hope, being able to have a friendship with his parents, and he was happy that step one was complete. With a look of glee on his face, he sat back down and looked over to Xenophilius, his smile disappearing as he cocked an eyebrow. "What color are my eyes?" He asked in a curious tone, wanting to make sure they were back to the blue color that Dumbledore had charmed them to be.

"Blue-ish," Xenophilius replied casually, before doing a double take. "They do look kind of green today, though."

"I have to go." Harry gasped, grabbing his book and running out of the Great Hall. He rushed up the stairs and down the hallways until he was outside of the gargoyle statue that would lead up to the Headmaster's office. "I need to talk to the headmaster." Harry said, knocking on the statue's body.

"Ow," The gargoyle growled, disgruntled by the lack of respect that Harry showed. Even so, with a jolt, the gargoyle began to move, swinging upwards as a staircase appeared from the floor. Harry quickly hopped onto the top step and rode the case up while it spun, getting slightly dizzy all the while.

"Thanks," Harry said to the gargoyle as the entrance to the office appeared, and he took a step off of the stairs, towards the door. Using the griffin-shaped knocker that was fastened to the door, he softly gave the door two taps, alerting the headmaster that he was outside.

"Come in," Harry heard a muffled voice call from behind the door. He opened the door and grinned to the headmaster, who gestured for Harry to come closer to him. "Ah, Harry, I was about to send for you. It's quite amusing that you would show up at my door, if I do say so myself." Dumbledore smiled from behind his desk, motioning for Harry to come closer and take a seat in front of him. "I wonder, what brings you to me?"

"What were you going to call me for, sir?" Harry questioned with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I was calling you for a great many a things, one of them being to talk, another to give you a vial of the potion that you are to take." Dumbledore answered, meeting Harry's gaze.

Harry nodded, realizing his suspicions of the magic wearing off were accurate. "The potion so my transfiguration stays how it is?"

"That is precisely correct, my dear boy." Dumbledore agreed with a slight nod of his head. He reached into his top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small vial of a milky liquid, placing it on the edge of his desk. "How are you adapting?"

"Okay, I guess." Harry shrugged disinterestedly, not really knowing himself just how well he was adapting. "I'm trying to give people a chance, but it's hard, what with knowing what they have done."

"Ah, but they haven't just yet, Harry." Dumbledore explained, wanting to make sure that Harry understood just what type of gift he was given. "You must remember that everything you do is a change to what went on during your time. You being here will cause immense ripples throughout Hogwarts, and in time, the whole of the British wizarding world."

"I know that, but…" Harry trailed off, not really knowing what to say. In a way, he got what Dumbledore was saying, but even so, he knew these people would never change, regardless of what he did: they were who they were. They were rotten, bigoted and prejudiced wizards and witches that, no matter how he handled or coddled them, would amount to nothing more than Death Eaters.

"How are you managing your courses?" Dumbledore questioned, changing the subject to something that he thought would be more palatable for Harry. "I trust you are learning a lot?"

"The nonverbal spells are difficult, but other than that, everything's okay." Harry replied. Then, his eyes flicked down to the book that was in his hand, a reminder of what he needed to tell Dumbledore. "Sir, there was something I wanted to tell you. In my time, you, well, you had just died, and you left me a few things to help in defeating Voldemort. You left those things to me, because there will be…" He stopped when Dumbledore raised his hand.

"I already know about the prophecy that will be made, and as for the items that I left for you, I want you to go through them. If you find something that will help, we can discuss it when the time is right, but I don't believe that the time is right now." Dumbledore said softly, having anticipated a similar conversation for a long while.

"How do you know?" Harry asked suspiciously, narrowing his gaze at the headmaster.

"When I first met you, I perused your mind to see if you were telling the truth and I got a glimpse of the prophecy then." Dumbledore answered honestly, giving Harry a frown, understanding of the fact that Harry might lose some trust in him. "I apologize for intruding on your privacy."

"Oh," Harry whispered, a bit peeved that Dumbledore was using Legilimency on him. He hated the feeling of being completely unable to defend himself like that, something that he did not appreciate at all in any context. "Thank you for the potion." Harry mentioned, taking the vial off of Dumbledore's desk.

"No problems with the spells that I performed, right?" Dumbledore asked, watching as Harry got to his feet.

"Well, I was talking to someone, my mother actually, and she mentioned something about my eyes flashing green like hers." Harry replied, having just experienced the incident moments before. "And then when I asked what color my eyes are, my friend told me they looked greener."

"It could have been just a momentary reaction on your body's part when you looked into her eyes." Dumbledore mused, knowing that magic wasn't perfect and there were reasons for it to slip.

"I guess," Harry shrugged again, bowing to Dumbledore's superior knowledge. "Thanks again, sir."

"No problem, Harry." Dumbledore replied quietly. "I promise that I will be around to talk to you more this month, it was just a busy time for me before this."

"Understandable, what with all that is happening out there." Harry whispered, before bidding the older wizard goodbye and walking back to his room. When he arrived, he hid the vial of potion under his pillow, intending on taking it before he feel asleep that night.

After class the next day, Harry rushed up to his bedroom, skipping the lunch offer that was given to him by Xenophilius. Instead of feeling sick like the last time he had skipped lunch, today Harry wanted to talk to the Remus journal and go through everything that Dumbledore had left him. He didn't know what Dumbledore had given him, but he knew that it was important, or else Dumbledore in all his great wisdom wouldn't have left it for him in the first place.

He popped open the lock that led into the library section of the trunk, and climbed down the ladder, pulling the trunk lid closed to make sure that no one else knew about it. As he reached the bottom, he walked over to the table in the center and sat down on the wooden chair that was there. He reached over to the journal and took out the quill and the bottle of ink that he still had in his pocket from class. _"Remus?"_ He wrote in the center of the page in big, cursive script.

Like before, the ink disappeared, before a new handwriting appeared, this one loopier than Harry's. _"Hello, Harry. How are you?"_

"_I am doing well. In case you don't know, it's been a few days since we've last spoken."_ Harry wrote back, not really knowing how it worked.

The ink disappeared, and a moment or two later, new letters formed from the page itself. _"Thank you, Harry. I have no sense of time within the confines of these pages. You could wait ten years before writing to me next, and it would seem to be but a mere few seconds. However, somehow, someway, I can feel when the journal travels, though I do not know how that works."_

Harry cocked an eyebrow, knowing that he would never do that, and wrote,_ "I'd never do that to you, not talk to you for ten years_."

"_I know, Harry. So what can I do for you?" _Remus replied in loopy writing, before his words disappeared back into the page.

"_Do you know what Dumbledore left me? And why he left it to me?"_ Harry questioned, hoping that Remus knew what Dumbledore intended by leaving all of the items.

"_Dumbledore thought of you as a grandson, Harry, that is why he left some of the things for you."_ Remus answered his second question, seemingly ignoring the first one.

Harry furrowed his brow, understanding the meaning of Remus' words. _"Some?"_ He wrote, wanting Remus to explain himself more. 

The response took noticeably longer to appear than before, and when it finally did appear, a lump took shape in Harry's throat. _"The rest were left so you can complete your destiny of destroying Voldemort, Harry."_

"_How did he expect me to do that?"_ Harry wrote as he sighed exasperatedly. Ever since being told about it by Dumbledore, the prophecy linking Voldemort and him had been in the back of his mind, reminding him of the danger that was in his future.

"_He left you his work and his memories dealing with Voldemort, I am sure you can understand them once you go through them."_ Remus replied, having faith that Harry could handle it.

"_Thank you, Remus." _Harry wrote, before closing the journal and reaching over to everything that was on the table, pulling it closer to him. The first item was a black leather diary that was closed with a snap lock. He pulled on the snap sleeve, hoping to open the diary to see what was written inside, but for some reason, it wouldn't come undone. Then, in the center of the diary, gold letters appeared, arranged to spell out: _I open with a name._

"Harry Potter." Harry whispered, wondering what was going on. With a pop, the snap came undone, granting Harry access to the secrets inside.

On the first page, in blue ink, it said:

_Hello Harry,_

_If you are reading this, then I have moved onto my next great adventure. I hope that it will not come to this, but I am a clever man, I know that it is inevitable. Inside this diary, I have written out everything you will need to know in order to defeat Tom in this battle that was written by fate and taken up by you. The items that I have left you have significance, so after you study them all and understand their meaning, come back to this diary and you will get further instructions. _

_I am sorry it has come to this, but remember Harry, you can walk away whenever you see fit and Voldemort will be defeated by someone other than yourself. _

Rolling his eyes at what was written, Harry pushed the diary off to the side, realizing that he had a lot of work ahead of it him just to figure out what was going on. With that in mind and not really knowing what to do, Harry started to go through the books. And, after not even getting through a quarter of a single book, the night was later and he had missed dinner. He fell asleep as he read through, before he groggily and quietly climbed up the ladder and out of his trunk around midnight. Almost immediately, he fell into his bed and closed his eyes, passing out in his clothes. Just as he had fallen asleep, he started to thrash in his bed, kicking the blankets off of his body. His eyes were moving all about, seemingly searching for something as if he was awake.

"_Augustus Rookwood," The Dark Lord Voldemort said in Harry's dream. His voice was like what a snake's might be: high-pitched and scratchy. "Welcome, welcome, I trust you will be a very valuable asset to our cause."_

"_I will do anything to help, my master." Rookwood said, bowing his head deeply and respectfully as he was warned to do. "Just give me your instructions and they will be carried out." _

"_Very well," Voldemort smirked, appreciating the servitude that Rookwood was showing. "I want you to tell me all that the Unspeakables are doing, I want you to gather whatever information about the Ministry that you can. I want a network of spies that will tell me how the Ministry will react, where the Ministry will act, and when the Ministry will act or react to something. I want my people to know more about the Ministry than the Minister of Magic himself does."_

"_I can do that, my master." Rookwood replied confidently, though still cognizant to keep his gaze away from Voldemort in respect. _

"_Very well." Voldemort muttered, and then looked over to another cloaked Death Eater. "Bring in Salt." The Death Eater left silently, only to return a minute later with a small, elderly man. "You dare defy the Dark Lord?"_

_The old man looked up at Voldemort, a look of complete disdain on his face. "I defy those who asked to be defied by their actions."_

"_Crucio!" Voldemort snapped without warning and Salt began to writher on the ground in excruciating pain. Again and again, the Dark Lord hit Salt with the Unforgivable, and before long, Salt was unresponsive. "Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort screeched, hitting Salt with the green light of death. "Useless." _

Harry jumped awake in his bed, sweating profusely as he brought a hand up to his scar. "Oh no," He muttered, sleepily, opening up the curtains around his bed and swinging his legs over the edge. He put his head in his hands, in an effort to figure out what had happened.

Was the connection he had with Voldemort still alive? He couldn't understand how that was even possible, as the Voldemort in this time didn't know who he was, let alone ever mark him as an equal. Is this what he had to look forward to, seeing Voldemort kill people every night? To see the most evil dark lord that's ever lived mock and torture people every night? With a sigh, he tried to figure out what he could do, how he could stop it. He couldn't live with going to sleep every night and seeing all of Voldemort's thoughts, he just couldn't live like that—not now, not ever. As he thought, he knew what he had to do, and though he didn't like it and had no idea if he would ever be successful at it, he knew that it was for the best: he had to learn Occlumency.

A/N: To the anonymous review saying I screwed up the timeline…I didn't. That's all I'm going say on that for now.


	10. Recompense

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I had hoped to get this chapter out sooner, but my computer is acting up again.

S/N 2: More Bellatrix and Harry interaction in this chapter as promised.

Chapter 10: Recompense

The next day found Harry sitting in the library, a stack of books on the table in front of him. He took the top book off of the pile, and then flipped through a few pages, not noticing Bellatrix Black taking a seat at the table next to him. "I heard about your run in with Rodolphus Lestrange." Bellatrix said in a soft voice, opening up her book and turning through the pages, as well.

"Did you?" Harry scowled, looking towards the young witch. "What about it, are you here to get me back for it?"

"No, why would I care?" Bellatrix laughed mirthlessly at that thought, instead finding her pleasure in the fact that Rodolphus was weak enough to be cursed to eat slugs. "He's a big boy, he can handle himself, and if he can't, he's pathetic."

"Aren't you his girlfriend?" Harry inquired, confusedly, wondering why Bellatrix wouldn't defend her future husband. _Was their marriage that loveless that they didn't even like each other_, he asked himself. _Or was it that they haven't fallen in love just yet?_

"Who told you that?" Bellatrix glanced over to Harry, raising a questioning eyebrow, wanting to know where he had gotten such an idea.

"I guess I must have misheard." Harry replied, hoping to wiggle himself out of the situation. It seemed to satiate Bellatrix's curiosity, as her attention returned to the book that she was holding in her hands.

The pair stayed silent for a few minutes, each reading their respective books. "What are you reading about?" Bellatrix asked, peeking her head over to his table. "Occlumency" Bellatrix inquired, her gaze falling onto the book that was opened in front of Harry. "Who is it that you need to keep from seeing your thoughts? Have some secrets you need to hide, eh?"

"It's none of your business." Harry hissed, annoyed that she would ask such a personal question.

Bellatrix smirked, liking the fact that she was able to bother Harry. "Very well, but what do you need it for?"

"You actually know about it?" Harry asked in a surprised tone, a bit skeptical that she actually knew Occlumency. It wasn't something that was taught in Hogwarts, and from what he had already learned about it, it wasn't a skill that many in the wizarding world had or even knew about.

"Yeah, I saw Severus Snape reading about it late one night a year ago, and I looked into it and learned it a bit." Then, knowing that she had a lot of work to do, she said, "Have fun with that; let me know how you do." She walked away without saying another word, leaving Harry to his books.

"I will." Harry whispered, watching her leave. She walked about ten paces before she stopped and returned to the table at which she was sitting. "Weren't you leaving?"

"Whatever you say," Bellatrix rolled her eyes, before picking up the book that she had forgotten and walking over to Harry's table. "Like I said, I know a little about Occlumency, I can help you for a price."

"I'll keep that in mind." Harry whispered back, not even bothering to look up from his book. Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow as she turned and walked out of the library, carrying her book underneath her left arm.

Harry, all the while, read a paragraph that made him sigh in hopelessness. The book basically told Harry that people who were emotional had a hard time clearing their minds, meaning it was harder to master Occlumency than it would be people who were able to compartmentalize their mind and hide their emotions. Those who were compassionate needed to work extra hard to clear their mind, which is something that Harry now realized was his fault and not Snape's fault. If he couldn't suppress his emotions, what chance did he have in clearing in his mind?

Even so, he continued on reading, hoping that some of it would rub off on him. He knew that he would never be the Occlumens that Snape was, but he didn't need to be, all he needed was to protect his mind at night so he didn't allow Voldemort to use the connection the pair had like he had in Sirius' death. He would work hard to try and make himself the best Occlumens he could, but he had no outrageous hopes about his abilities and proficiency in the mind arts. With that in mind, he pressed on, intent on conquering the challenges that prevented him from protecting his thoughts.

A few weeks passed, with Harry busy working on his schoolwork, the material that Dumbledore had left for him, and his extracurricular studies of Occlumency. The Slytherins that he had had the altercation with before had gone after him a few times, led by their leader Rodolphus, but luckily for Harry, he was a better wizard than the seventh year, meaning Harry was able to defend himself on nearly all occasions that Rodolphus attacked him. One of the occasions that he wasn't able to defend himself, however, was when Rodolphus sent the Trip Jinx at Harry just as the wizard was walking down the stairs, meaning Harry tumbled all the way down until he landed roughly on the stone landing. Harry wasn't hurt, but it was a dangerous attack that could have seriously injured him.

During that time, he had spoken with his mother a few times, and was now on a first name basis with her. Every time they saw each other in the hallway, they would both say hello, which was a big step that made Harry extremely excited. Unfortunately, however, he had made no progress with his father, though he knew the moment that would give him the opportunity would be coming soon. He could somehow feel it, though he doubted it was anything supernatural, and was just his mind getting antsy.

"Does anybody know the weak spot in the Basilisk's body?" Professor Regula Moonshine questioned her Defense Against the Dark Arts class one late October day.

"Their eyes?" Harry replied knowingly, raising his hand into the air. He had grown accustomed to Professor Moonshine's teaching method, and if he was being honest, he was learning just as much from her as he had from Remus when he was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, maybe even more.

"Very good, Harry." Moonshine nodded, giving Harry a warm smile. "While their vision is their most dangerous weapon, their eyes also serve as a weakness to them because, in order to use their powers, they need to have their eyes open. And as you all should know by now, their eyes do not have the same leathery skin for protection that the rest of their body does. You take out their eyes, they're less dangerous, though still more dangerous than many other creatures out there. Of course, it has been illegal to breed Basilisks for a long time now, so you shouldn't be running into any of them anytime soon." She grinned at them all, while Harry just looked down, having come into contact with a Basilisk for himself. "That is all for today, I guess I'll see you next week."

Harry gathered his things into his bag and left the room, and as he started down the hallway towards the Great Hall, he was struck in the face with a Tooth Growing Hex, making his front teeth grow to enormous proportions at an alarming rate. "Did I do that, half-blood?" Rodolphus Lestrange questioned mockingly, pocketing his wand in his robes. Rabastan and Bellatrix both laughed at Harry as they passed him, before meeting with Rodolphus and continuing down the hallway.

"Are you okay?" Greta Catchlove, a fifth-year Ravenclaw questioned, running up to Harry as the wizard covered his mouth with his hand. She was of medium height, and had short blonde hair, milky-white skin, and light blue eyes.

"I'a hine." Harry gagged out, inwardly seething in anger. His teeth were growing down passed his chin, before stopping a few inches below his collar, making him look like a human-beaver hybrid.

"Here, let me take you to the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey will know what to do." Greta said, putting her arm around Harry's shoulders, allowing him to lean against her.

"Hank foo," Harry replied, barely able to put together a few intelligible words. With a hand covering his ever-growing front teeth, Harry walked up to the Infirmary with Greta, arriving a few minutes later.

"Oh, Mr. Dumbledore, what happened here?" Madam Pomfrey gasped, running over to Harry and guiding him into the chair next to a bed so she could take a better look. "Yes, yes, just a simple Tooth-Shrinking spell should suffice." She said, after studying Harry's predicament. "I'll be right back." She said, before dashing into her office to grab her wand.

"Foo don't halve to fay, foo know." Harry said to Greta, not wanting to trouble the girl anymore.

"It's okay, I want to stay." She replied with a smile, somehow understanding what Harry was saying.

"Okay, here we are, Mr. Dumbledore." Pomfrey returned with her wand in her hand. Before Harry knew it, Pomfrey twisted and swished her wand through the air while muttering an incantation. She took a step back and watched as Harry's front teeth began to shrink, and smiled when they returned to their normal form. "There, how is that?"

"Much better, thanks!" Harry grinned, running a lone finger over his two newly shrunken teeth. "How do I look?"

"Well, you don't look like a chipmunk, if that's what you're asking." Pomfrey said, before turning around and walking back into her office.

"Thank you, you didn't have to help me." Harry started, as he and Greta walked out of the Infirmary. "Why did you help me? I mean, we haven't really talked all that much, to be honest."

"I'm friends with Mary Macdonald." Greta replied, looking over to Harry. Their eyes made contact for a brief moment, before she looked away, a light blush appearing almost unnoticeably on her cheeks. "I know what you did for her and I just wanted to show my appreciation. Plus, it was because of that incident that Lestrange is going after you for, right?"

"Yeah, but its okay, he's not important." Harry sighed, knowing that eventually he would have to put an end to what Rodolphus and the other Slytherins were doing to him. He just didn't know how to do that exactly, but he knew it would come to him in time.

"He's a prat." Greta scowled with a look of disgust on her face, thankful that she had never really had any contact with the Slytherin. "I never much liked him, if I do say so myself."

Harry laughed, knowing that the Slytherins were very unlikable, no matter the time he was in. "Is there anyway I can thank you? Perhaps buy you a butterbeer in Hogsmeade this weekend? It is a Hogsmeade weekend, isn't it?"

"I think it is." Greta nodded in the affirmative, a smile appearing on her face. "And as for the butterbeer, sure, I'd like that."

"Good, then I'll meet you in the common room around noon on Saturday?" Harry asked, hoping that would be a good time for her.

"That sounds fine to me." Greta smiled again, and then when she saw Harry turning down a different hallway, she cocked an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to lunch?"

"No," Harry shook his head in the negative, not really feeling hungry. "I have some work I have to do. I'll see you later?"

Greta nodded and said, "Bye."

"Bye," Harry waved and then ran off down the hall, leaving Greta behind. Greta watched until Harry was out of sight and then walked down to the Great Hall, a large smile on her pretty face.

At noon that Saturday, Harry walked down the dormitory steps that led to the Common Room. He was wearing a long green cloak, with black jeans and a dark gray collared shirt. As he bounced off of the last step, his gaze moved around the room, searching for Greta. There, on the plush blue sofa sat the blonde-haired witch, her hair pulled back into a tight pony-tail.

"Hey, Greta." Harry said, coming up from behind her.

"Harry!" Greta grinned, jumping up from the sofa. She moved her eyes up and down Harry, giving a look at what he was wearing. "You look nice."

"As do you," Harry returned, noticing that she was wearing a plaid skirt with long black tights and a black sweater. "So where do you want to go?" Harry asked as the pair walked out of the common room, down the stairs until they reached the first floor and then out of the main door, which led to the path that would eventually go to Hogsmeade.

"I heard they just opened up a joke shop." Greta said, suggesting they go there first.

"Did they now?" Harry smiled, amused that the stores and shops that he had come to know in Hogsmeade were just sprouting up.

"Yeah, it's called Jinki's or something like that." Greta bit her lip, trying to remember the name of the shop.

Harry grinned at that, remembering that as a child, his fat cousin used to watch a cartoon called Scooby Doo and one of the characters always used to say jinkies when she was surprised by something. "Oh, you mean Zonko's? Yeah, I heard about that."

"Zonko's, that's it!" Greta laughed as they arrived in Hogsmeade—tons of Hogwarts students were entering and exiting the various shops the town had to offer.

Harry gave a look of slight disgust as they passed by Madame Puddifoot's, the memory of his and Cho Chang's date popping into his head. They passed a few more shops before they arrived at the newly opened Zonko's, which Harry noticed before he entered was a lot cleaner and fresher than it would be in twenty years. It was packed with Hogwarts students, who were bustling around excitedly, gathering all the jokes and gags they needed to hold them over until the next Hogsmeade weekend. The pair made their way through the throngs of students, heading towards one of the back aisles, where they could look some of Zonko's items without being surrounded.

"Harry, look," Greta called for the wizard's attention, putting on a pair of gag glasses that made the wearer look like a goblin. Harry slowly turned around to look at Greta, and for a brief moment, Ron's face flashed in his mind. As he looked at Greta, he couldn't help but see Ron instead of the blonde witch, as Ron used to love going into Zonko's and toying with everything. Before he could stop himself, he gave out a loud sigh, and almost immediately, Greta's smile disappeared. "Is something wrong?"

"What?" Harry asked, and then shook his head, realizing that his sigh probably offended her. "No, no, I'm sorry. I'm just a little homesick, that's all, you know, with a new school and all." Harry babbled, hoping to clear up the confusion: it wasn't her that made him sad, it was the memory of his old friends, friends whom he loved dearly.

"Oh," Greta replied as she put the glasses back where they belonged and came over to Harry. "Where did you used to go to school?"

Harry moved his gaze over to Greta, inwardly trying to think of something to say. "I went to a small school in mainland Europe, not one of the other two big schools." Harry answered, hoping that it would suffice; after all, he didn't know many other wizarding schools other than Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang. "What do you want to get?"

"Just these," Greta said, holding up a package of Sugar Quills. The pair then walked up to the counter, and when it came time to pay, Harry stopped Greta from getting out her money. "You don't have to do that," She started, but was silenced when Harry just smiled up to her and passed the five sickles over to the store tender.

"Ready?" Harry questioned, giving the quills over to Greta. A sudden thought hit Harry as they left Zonko's, and he looked up and down the main road, trying to figure out where he could buy what he wanted.

He figured there would be two shops that might have what he was looking for: Dervish and Banges or Uric the Oddball's Odd Shop. Deciding that he would try Dervish and Banges first, he held the door open for Greta to enter the store, and then followed in behind her. His gaze moved around the small shop. There were various golden and silver instruments lining the walls, all with spinning balls, whirling thingamajigs, whizzing kazoos, and clanging smoke puffers.

Greta walked away to look at an item that was in the window, while Harry searched through the rows of items for what he needed. He walked down the first row and then up the second, not finding what he was looking for in either. Then, at the end of the third row, he saw it, though it was much smaller and less intricate than the one he was familiar with in Albus Dumbledore's office. He reached out and picked up the Pensieve into his hands: it was about the size of a cereal bowl, was made from a dark stone, and had ancient runes carved around its circular edge. He felt the basin, and shivered when he felt that it was cold and slick like an eel's body.

"What is that?" Greta questioned, peeking over Harry's shoulder for a look at the stone bowl.

Harry looked over to her, and then back down at the Pensieve. "Its called a Pensieve and it helps you look at memories."

"Really?" Greta replied, having never heard of such a device. "That sounds interesting."

Harry went up to the counter and paid for his Pensieve, before running his wand over it and shrinking it down so that it would fit in his pocket. Once his purchase was secured, he turned around and smiled at Greta, hoping that she was having fun. "So, how about we get that butterbeer?"

"Shall we go to the Three Broomsticks?" Greta questioned as they exited the store, and started walking down the street.

"That sounds good." Harry agreed, licking his lips at the thought of a delicious butterbeer.

As they entered the Three Broomsticks, Sirius and James bolted out of the inn, their faces lined with jovial smiles as Madam Rosmerta yelled after them. Harry didn't know what they did, but by the grin that Madam Rosmerta had on her face, he knew that it was something that was funny rather than malicious. They took a seat in one of the booths near the fireplace that wasn't being used, and when Rosmerta came by, they both ordered butterbeers.

The rest of the day passed by in a fly and before Harry knew it, he was standing in front of the stairway that would lead up to the girls' dormitory in the Ravenclaw common room. "I had a nice time, Harry." Greta said, giving him a small smile.

"Me too," Harry agreed, nodding his head as he looked into her eyes.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" She questioned him, hoping that they would see each other again real soon.

"Of course," Harry nodded, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. She kissed him on the cheek as she pulled back and quickly skipped up the stairs, leaving Harry to himself. With a small smile, Harry walked to the opposite staircase and went up to his room, dropping down onto his bed as he rested after a long, eventful day.

"Did you hear?" Derrick Jordan yelled as he ran into the boys' room an hour later.

"Hear what?" Bertram Aubrey asked, opening up the curtains around his bed. Xenophilius looked up from his book, while Harry stood near the bathroom door, waiting for what Derrick had to say.

"We start Apparition training in two weeks. Cost twelve galleons." Derrick answered, grinning from ear to ear, excited about the prospect of being able to apparate anywhere he wanted.

"Really?" Harry inquired, excitedly, meandering over to his bed and sitting on the edge.

"Yeah, they just posted the sign up sheet on the announcement board down in the Common Room." Derrick answered, standing in the center of the room so all could hear him.

"If you knew they just posted it, then why would you ask us if we knew? Of course we didn't." Aubrey shook his head, mocking his friend Derrick.

"I can't wait to apparate." Derrick said in a jovial tone, ignoring Aubrey as he jumped down onto his bed. "I have a cousin, Leonard, who keeps bragging to me that he can apparate and I can't. When he came to visit me this summer, he appeared out of nowhere and scared my mother half to death."

Harry's gaze shot over to Derrick at the mention of the name, remembering it from a conversation he had had with Lee Jordan during his second year. "Leonard Jordan?"

"Yeah, you know him?" Derrick asked inquisitively. "He graduated last year, he was a Hufflepuff."

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head in the negative. _Leonard Jordan was Lee Jordan's father_, Harry thought to himself, looking over to Derrick, seeing the slight resemblance he had to Lee Jordan. "Apparating should be fun," Harry said, trying to keep the conversation going. "I hate travelling via portkey, its uncomfortable, and don't even get me started on how I always seem to get ash on my pants when I travel through the Floo network."

"You know the Heliopaths were taught how to apparate by the Phoenixes." Xenophilius stated, turning the page of his book.

"Sure they were, Xeno." Aubrey said, rolling his eyes in amusement.

"Don't they usually have the classes begin in February, why are they in November this year?" Xenophilius pondered, realizing the classes were being offered a bit early this year.

"Hey, yeah, you're right; they were in February last year." Derrick muttered, wondering what why that was. Harry stayed silent as the rest of the group began to go about their own devices, his excitement about learning how to apparate written clearly on his face.


	11. Inside the Wooden Hoop

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the delay again, work is really backing up without my computer. I also want to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all the American readers out there.

S/N 2: Greta is going to be around for a while, I haven't decided in what capacity just yet, but she'll be around.

Chapter 11: Inside the Wooden Hoop

Early the next morning, Harry walked down towards the announcement board to sign up for the Apparition lessons, and when he arrived, Professor Telemus was explaining the requirements to a sixth year girl. "Hello Harry," She said, coming over to him once she was finished. "I see that you've signed up for the Apparition course."

"I'm just about to do it now." Harry grinned excitedly, taking a step towards the board once the boy who was signing his name had moved away. He grabbed the quill that was magically levitating next to the parchment and was about to sign his name but paused when he heard Professor Telemus speak.

"I believe Professor Dumbledore has already secured your spot, Harry." Telemus mentioned knowingly, scrolling her hand down the parchment until she saw the name Harry Dumbledore listed. "Yes, just as I thought, he signed you up and paid this morning."

"Oh, really?" Harry whispered, smiling, appreciating the kind gesture from the older wizard. He released the quill, and it went back to levitating next to the parchment, until the next student grabbed a hold of it. "He didn't have to do that."

"Yes, well, that is Albus for you." Professor Telemus replied, bidding Harry goodbye and walking towards a pair of third years that were causing trouble over by the entrance into the common room.

Before Harry knew it, it was a week later and he was walking into the Great Hall, finding that the tables had been discarded, leaving a large open room. The ceiling above swirled with storm clouds as the hail and snow from the outside clacked against the high windows on the walls. He headed towards the Ravenclaw group that was gathered in front of Professor Telemus, who herself was standing near the other Heads of Houses. A small wizard, whom Harry took to be the Apparition Instructor from the Ministry, was standing along with the Heads, talking animatedly with Professor McGonagall. He was oddly colorless, with wispy hair and transparent eyelashes, and had an insubstantial air around him, as if a single gust of wind would blow him away.

"Good morning, good morning," The Ministry wizard said once all of the students had arrived and were quietly waiting for him to speak. "My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition Instructor for the next six weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition tests from now until the end of the course, by which time many of you may be ready to take your tests. Because of the recent change of itinerary, we are forced to cut down the usual twelve week program where we would have a session together each Saturday to a six week program that has sessions each Saturday and Sunday."

"In addition, since this time will most probably be invaded by the cold and snow like it has been today, I am inclined to keep the sessions indoors, rather than on the grounds of Hogwarts like we normally would. Now, you might be questioning how we are able Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts in the first place, since it is usually impossible to do so. Luckily, the Headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, so as to enable you to practice. I should emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

"Now, all of you should place yourselves so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you." The students all separated, banging into each other, and ordering others out of their vicinity. The Heads of Houses helped the students space themselves, marshalling some students into the spots that were going unused. Harry moved himself, and when he found a spot, he looked to his right and left, noticing that he was sandwiched between Alice Prince and Violetta Valentine, whom Harry had figured out, would become the mother of Pansy Parkinson. Unlike her future daughter, however, Violetta was not an insufferable prat, though Harry admittedly did not know her all that well.

Twycross waved his wand, and an old-fashioned wooden hoop instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student. "When Apparating, it is important to remember your three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation." He lectured, walking up and down a row of students, wanting to make sure they all heard him. "The first step is to fix your mind firmly upon your desired destination, which in this case will be inside your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now." He said, motioning for the students to do as they were told.

They all looked around with curious eyes, trying to see if the other students were staring into the hoop, before hastily doing as they were told. Harry stared down at the floor that was inside the hoop, noticing for the first time how dusty and muddy the floor was, but then shook his head to clear his mind and thought of that enclosed piece of floor only.

"Step two," Twycross said, continuing to walk up and down the columns of students. "Focus your determination to occupy your visualized space and then let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body." Harry moved his gaze from the encircled piece of floor to Otto Bagman who was across the Hall; he was concentrating on the hoop so hard that his face had turned bright red. "Step three, and only perform it when I give the command, is deliberation: you must turn on the spot and feel your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation! We'll go on my command, now…one…two….three, go!"

Harry looked down with alarm at the hoop, already forgetting what the three D's stood for. Even so, he spun on the spot as slowly as he could, only for nothing to happen. Meanwhile, others had spun too quickly and had lost their balance, and the room was suddenly full of staggering, dizzy people. His gaze moved around the hall, trying to find anyone that had been successful, but instead, all he found were faces that seemed just as perplexed as he was.

"Never mind, never mind," Twycross yelled, apparently having expected for nothing more than that to have happened. "Let us try that once more." Again, most of the students staggered in dizziness as Harry stared confusedly at the ring, wondering what he was doing wrong. _Am I going too slowly_, he questioned himself, _am I not thinking hard enough?_ When the students gathered themselves to go for a third time, there was a horrible screeching noise and everybody looked around, startled by the sudden burst of noise that entered the relatively quietly hall.

A girl in Gryffindor that Harry did not know was wobbling in her hoop, while her right leg below her knee was still standing five feet away, where she had started. Most students looked horrified, except for a group of Slytherins, led by Rabastan Lestrange, Evan Rosier, and included Bellatrix Black that were snickering in their corner. Harry didn't know if it was because of the pain the Gryffindor was in or because someone had said something funny, but he tended to think it was the former. The Heads of the Houses immediately converged on the girl, and there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke. The smoke cleared to reveal the girl was sobbing, but luckily reunited with her leg, albeit hesitant to ever try Apparating again.

"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," Wilkie Twycross said, somewhat monotonously as if he had seen it a thousand times over again. "Occurs when the mind is not sufficiently determined in its quest to appear at your destination like what you all just witnessed. You must continuously concentrate upon your destination, and move without hast, but with deliberation, like such." He stepped forward, turned gracefully on the spot with his arms outstretched, and vanished in a swirl of robes, reappearing at the back of the Hall. "Let us try again."

The hour passed quickly, with the only activity reminiscent of Apparating by the students being the Gryffindor girl's splinching accident. "Until tomorrow, everybody, and do not forget your three D's." Twycross said as he fastened his cloak around his neck, apparently undiscouraged by the lack of improvement from the students. He gingerly waved his wand and the hoops vanished, and then walked out of the hall while being accompanied by the Heads of Houses.

The next day, Harry was again staring at the floor encircled by the wooden hoop. This time, he moved a little faster when he spun around than he had the day prior, and felt a slight tingle in his stomach when he did. Overcome with confidence, he started to turn once more, but just then, he heard a loud crack and he quickly jerked his head to the spot. There, about thirty feet ahead of him, he saw Milton Curd standing inside his hoop, all in one piece.

"That was a very, very good job, boy!" Twycross beamed, slapping Milton on the back, absolutely thrilled that someone had actually been listening to his teachings. "You see what he did everyone? He remembered his three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation."

Not a moment later, there were another three or four cracks, and Harry turned around and saw who accomplished it: Bellatrix Black was standing inside her hoop, wearing an arrogant smile on her admittedly pretty face; then there was Frank Longbottom, who was grinning ear to ear as he looked over to Alice, his girlfriend; and finally, there was the Gryffindor girl who had splinched herself the day before, but luckily this time, she had done everything correctly and was still in one piece. With renewed energy and bellying confidence, Harry concentrated on his three D's and began to spin on the spot. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach, which began to spread up and down his body, and then there was a strange feeling that overcame him, as if he was being both pushed and pulled. He heard a loud crack and opened his eyes, not realizing that he had closed them in the first place, and tentatively looked down.

A broad smile appeared on his face when he saw that he was inside of the hoop, accomplishing Apparition for the first time. His gaze moved over the other students who were all looking at him, some wearing congratulatory smiles, some wearing looks of undeniable jealousy, while others were turning red in concentration. His eyes met Bellatrix's, who stared back at him with a blank expression, and Harry briefly wondered what she was thinking. _Probably angry that a non-pureblood like me could do it so quickly_, he thought to himself.

"That was very good, Harry." Professor Telemus said, coming over to Harry to applaud the younger wizard. "Accomplishing Apparition in just two days is quite an achievement, you should be very proud of yourself."

Harry turned his gaze over to the older witch, nodding his head. "Thank you, ma'am, it was a lot harder than I thought it would be. It felt strange, too, but it's great to have gotten it down."

"You must remember to concentrate on your destination, or else you will splinch yourself, which is never a good thing." Telemus reminded him, before walking away to help out another Ravenclaw that was a few people down.

The hour passed with only five more students being able to Apparate, and after the time was up, Twycross vanished all of the wooden hoops and exited the Hall. "Hey Harry!" A voice yelled out from behind as Harry was walking out of the Great Hall, finished for the day.

Harry turned his attention to the voice and smiled when he saw it was Greta. "Greta!" He exclaimed happily, waiting for her to catch up to him.

"I can't believe you Apparated! That's awesome, good job!" The blonde grinned with pride clearly showing on her round face. "What was it like?"

"Strange, actually," Harry admitted in a pensive tone, trying to remember every detail of the ordeal. "You feel a tingle, then a pushing and a pulling, and then you're just there. It's…instant."

"I hope I can do it next weekend." Greta said wistfully, desiring nothing more than to be a powerful witch that was capable of defending herself. Instead, her strengths were food charms and writing, something that didn't protect her all that much against the dark forces of Voldemort.

"I'm sure you will, don't worry." Harry assured her, knowing that she would be able to accomplish it soon. "Do you want to get something to eat with us?"

"Us?" Greta questioned curiously, wondering who else was coming along. "And where?"

"Yes, us," Harry smiled, giving her a sideways glance. "Xenophilius just quickly went up to the common room, but he'll be back. And we're going to the kitchens, of course."

"Wait, the kitchens? You know how to get into the kitchens?" Greta exclaimed, surprised that he had found out where the kitchens were. She had been in Hogwarts for six years and still had yet to figure it out, and the fact that he was able to do it not three months into his first year at Hogwarts impressed her immensely.

"It's as easy as tickling a pear." Harry laughed, as they started the walk up to the common room in order to meet with Xenophilius. "So were you even close to Apparating?"

"Um," Greta said, biting her lip in thought. "No, I didn't, not really at least. I heard a few others say that they were feeling a tingling sensation in their body, but I didn't feel it."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, remembering the feeling. "I felt it in my stomach right before I Apparated."

"Oh well," Greta shrugged in seeming nonchalance. "My mother and father never Apparate, so perhaps I just don't have the genes for it." She grinned, showing that she was just joking and wasn't at all down.

"There's always a magic carpet." Harry replied sarcastically with a laugh. He knew that the magical world offered plenty of ways to travel, so he didn't see not being able to Apparate as that much of a weakness or a hassle.

"I'd rather not get thrown into Azkaban, thank you very much." Greta giggled, shaking her head at the thought of being arrested by the Aurors.

"One square meal of slop, dementors breathing down your neck at all times of the day, sounds…well, it sounds like a misery worse than death, actually." Harry muttered, as Sirius and Remus walked passed them just then, a twist of fate that made him sigh deeply. He gave a wave to both of the boys, who happily waved and said hello right back.

"Do you know anyone in Azkaban?" She asked, wondering if he was speaking from the experience of a family member or an older friend.

"Not anymore." Harry responded as they arrived at the common room, entering the blue and bronze room after giving the correct answer to the riddle. "Xeno, are you ready yet? I'm starving." He yelled up the stairs, knowing that you could hear someone yelling from the common room in their room. The sixth years' bedroom was the second to bottom, with the seventh years' room being on the first landing, and the younger student's being progressively higher and higher, with the first years' seven floors up.

"Yes," Xenophilius answered simply, walking down into the common room.

The trio walked down the stairs to the basement floor, and then through the dungeon-like hallways until they reached the portrait of the fruit bowl. Harry grinned over at Greta as she watched him tickle the pear, which giggled and transformed into a green door knob. Harry quickly twisted the knob, and the portrait swung open to reveal the large kitchen hidden away. Inside, the house elves bustled about, making meats, sides, cookies and pies, seemingly thrilled with all the work they were doing. It was controlled chaos in Harry's opinion, with so many moving parts and levitating pots that it just had to be planned.

"It's as easy as tickling a pear?" Greta shook her head, a small smile appearing on her face. "How did you ever find this?"

"He won't tell you, he's never told me all this time." Xenophilius whispered with a faraway look in his eyes, walking over to the long table that was in the center of the kitchen and taking a seat.

"I know some curious people who went around trying to find all the secrets of Hogwarts," Harry admitted vaguely, not wanting to reveal anything about the Marauder's Map. "They informed me where it was, among other places."

They all sat down, and almost immediately, a horde of elves brought over a plethora of snack foods, treats, and other goodies for them all to enjoy, which they did without hesitation. "Christmas Break is only a month away!" Greta chirped happily as they all snacked on whatever it was that they preferred. "Are you going home for the break, Harry?"

"No," Harry shook his head in the negative, not wanting to think about being unable to see the Weasleys at Christmastime just yet. "I'm sure I'll just get together with Professor Dumbledore, that's all. What about you?"

"Yes," She replied happily, a broad smile appearing on her face. "My family may go on holiday to Switzerland; you know, to the village of Magiehorn."

"I've actually never heard of that," Harry shrugged, uninformed about the village and what made it so special.

"Seriously? It's a magical community in the Alps." She said, slightly confused, truly wondering where he had gone to school before Hogwarts if he had never heard of Magiehorn. "Well, we go there every few years, and with You-Know-Who out there, my parents want us to get away as quickly as possible, even if it's just for a few days."

"That sounds nice," Harry agreed, realizing that Greta's parents probably just wanted her to be safe and to know a sliver of peace, even if she would have to come back to the darkness sooner or later. After all, if he was a father, he'd want the same for his child.

"The mayor of Magiehorn has an army of yetis hidden underneath his home, just waiting to be used to overthrow the Swiss Ministry of Magic." Xenophilius recited, meeting Greta's gaze. "The Swiss Ministry is the richest of all Ministries, so he recruited as many yetis he could find to assault it one day."

"I didn't know about that," Greta giggled, understanding Xenophilius' odd behavior, though never agreeing with anything that he said. "I'll be sure to keep my eyes and ears open if I go."

Later that night, Harry yawned as he got under his sheets to go to sleep. His mind couldn't help but drift off to Apparating, and the blank look that Bellatrix had thrown at him. It was as if, in her own way, she was congratulating Harry for accomplishing what not many in their year had been able to do, but that didn't sound like her at all. He then thought about that day in the library, where Bellatrix offered to help him with legilimency. He still had yet to master it to the extent that he needed, apparently being unable to clear his mind like he had read he was supposed to do. Should he take her up on her offer? Surely what she wanted back in exchange for teaching him would be a lot more than she was giving up, right? He didn't know, but he knew that he had to start thinking of something if he was to stop Voldemort from entering his dreams. Either way, that night his happiness at Apparating helped him quickly fell into a peaceful sleep, dreaming about his friends from his own time.

The Apparating lessons quickly went by, and before Harry knew it, it was nearing the Christmas break. During that time, he had finished off two of the books that Dumbledore had left him, and was moving onto his third, but was still lacking the purpose of why Dumbledore had left him the books that he did in the first place. In one of the previous books, he had come across the term Horcrux numerous times, but unfortunately, he had no idea about what it meant. Worse yet, when he went into the library to see if he could find information about the term, he had searched through countless of horrible books that explained the most gruesome of magic, but even they did not speak of what a Horcrux was. After a week of searching, he had found the only book that even spoke of it, which was an ancient tome entitled 'Magick Moste Evile'. In the introduction of the book, the authors wrote, "Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction…" With his quest at a seeming dead end, he decided against asking Dumbledore about it, figuring that he would finish off all of the other items that his own time's Dumbledore left him before he questioned the older wizard about everything he gathered. Plus, he wanted the satisfaction of figuring out everything by himself, rather than constantly running to Dumbledore for answers. Overall, he knew that when Christmas break came, he would have a lot to do, which he was thankful for since it would distract him from thinking about Hermione and the Weasleys.

A/N: This chapter was actually pretty important to the overall arc of the story. The next chapter will be up on Christmas day and it will be a Christmas chapter, and it will definitively show something that will forever change the relationship between two characters so be ready for it. And once that happens, the story will start moving quickly.


	12. Happy Christmas War is Not Over

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Just as I promised, a Christmas chapter up on Christmas day.

S/N 2: The title of this chapter is a pun on John Lennon's song, "Happy Xmas (War is Over)".

Chapter 12: Happy Christmas (War is Not Over)

It was December 23, the final day of term that found Harry walking alone to the Great Hall for breakfast after having said his goodbyes to Xenophilius and Greta just minutes prior. With a book in hand, he intended to read while he ate, understanding of the fact that not many people that he knew would be in the Great Hall to converse with because of the Hogwarts Express' departure. He nodded his head to a bunch of Ravenclaws that were walking towards the main doors of Hogwarts; each had large smiles on their faces in anticipation of the coming holiday. As he turned the corner, he bumped into his mother, Lily Evans, and gave her a large smile. "Hello, Lily! Going home for break?" He questioned her, hoping to make conversation and wish her a Happy Christmas.

"Oh, yes, I can't wait to see my parents and my sister!" Lily squealed in barely contained excitement. She was bundled with a scarf and a woolen hat, making Harry wonder where exactly she lived as his aunt had never told him about her time growing up with his mother. "What about you?"

"I'm staying here." Harry grinned, not wanting to spoil her happiness. He knew how people reacted when they realized that he was an orphan, so he didn't want her to feel bad for him and instead focus on her own enjoyment.

"I'm sorry." Lily replied, awkwardly, trying to make sure she didn't insult Harry at all. She sympathized with students who didn't have a family to go home to, especially when entire families were destroyed in single nights because of the Dark Lord.

"What, no, no, I'm staying with my great uncle, so its fine." Harry lied, noticing Lily's sympathy.

"In that case, you better have fun." Lily laughed, wanting her good cheer to spread to Harry, whom she could tell wasn't being entirely truthful. There was something about him that she couldn't quite place—she felt comfortable with him, even though she knew that he was hiding something and didn't know very much about him.

"I will." Harry promised, returning her laughter. "Have a safe trip home and Happy Christmas!"

"Thank you and Merry Christmas to you." Lily hugged him, before running off down the hall to join her other Gryffindor friends.

With a large smile still on his face, he continued on towards the Great Hall, a new hop to his step and a buzz about him that wasn't present before. "Happy birthday," Harry said unconsciously, as he passed Bellatrix Black in the Great Hall; he was just entering while she was leaving, presumably to catch the Hogwarts Express so she could go home for the break.

"What did you say?" Bellatrix asked with furrowed brows, as she turned around on the spot and stared at Harry with her eerie violet eyes.

"Today's your birthday, right? Well, happy birthday." Harry replied, walking backwards towards his table, meeting her gaze all the while. He didn't know what prompted him to say happy birthday to her, perhaps it was the high that he felt after talking to his mother, a tumult of happiness that he felt still, even while talking to Bellatrix.

"How did you know?" She questioned him, cocking an intrigued eyebrow, wondering how he had found out about her birth date. Not many of the people she associated with even knew about it, just her family and a few close friends, so it came as a surprise to her that he would.

"First day of Defense Against the Dark Arts, you know, those questions." Harry answered, and then turned back around and walked to the table, where he took out his book and sat by himself. Bellatrix didn't respond, instead she just watched as he buttered a piece of toast and nibbled on it while he turned a page. Then, silent still, she spun on her heels and walked out of the Great Hall, meeting with her friends who were waiting for her, a pensive look on her face all the while.

Harry continued to read his book, which was entitled The Tales of Beedle the Bard, throughout the day, even when he was the last person left in the Great Hall and all of the tables had been cleared of food. The fable in Beedle the Bard's tales that struck him the most was _The Tale of the Three Brothers_, which told the story of three brothers who had thought they defeated death by crafting a bridge to cross a raging river. Angered and humiliated, Death concocted a plan to catch his prey, offering up three amazing items as gifts to the three brothers, whom greedily accepted. In the end, two of the brothers were tricked by Death, but the youngest and wisest of them all managed to survive and live a long, fruitful life.

He didn't know if the story was true, if it was based on truth, or if it was completely imagined by Beedle the Bard, but he enjoyed reading it, and wondered what he would do with such treasures like the wand, the stone, and the cloak that the brothers had received from Death. Additionally, he read through all of the scribbling that Dumbledore had written in the book's margins, notes and ideas that the grand wizard had about the various stories, until he came upon a scribble that was done in ancient runes. "What is that?" He questioned out loud, trying to decipher its meaning. "Kill Inanimate? No, that's not right." He sighed after a few minutes of thought, deciding to ask Derrick Jordan about it when the boy returned from break, a wizard who was exceptionally gifted in the field of runes.

Two days later, it was Christmas day and Harry awoke to a loud tapping at the window. Groggily, he slowly stumbled over to it and opened it up, allowing his owl Hedwig into the warmth of the room. "Hi, Hedwig." He said, petting his snowy owl gently on the head. "Happy Christmas," He whispered to the owl and then grinned when he saw the four presents that were at the end of his bed, each wrapped with decorative Christmas paper, one more messily than the three others.

He quickly hopped over to the pile of presents, and took the largest one into his hands. The note that was stuck onto the paper read, "To: Harry, from: Hagrid." Unwrapping the paper, Harry found that it was a roughly cut wooden flute, which reminded Harry greatly of the flute that Hagrid had given him in his first year. Harry brought the flute up to his lips and blew into the mouthpiece, but cringed at the sound that came out—it sounded more like a foghorn than a flute in Harry's mind, but he appreciated the gift and the effort that it took to craft it just the same.

The second present was from Dumbledore, and after unwrapping the paper, Harry found a silver instrument in the shape of a Chinese dragon. It was about the size of a muggle tissue box, and was connected to a wooden base by a small silver rod that looked like a plastic straw. There was a note with it that read:

_Use this to answer all the questions of your mind; all you have to do is ask. If it's blue, you know the answer; if it's gray, the answer you must attain._

Harry put the note back into the box from which it came, and picked up the instrument and placed it on his lap. He studied the object a little further, and realized that there was water in the wooden base, which sloshed around whenever it moved. "What are you?" Harry questioned in a whisper, and immediately reared back when the water in the base bubbled and a small cloud of gray smoke puffed out of the dragon's mouth. Then, suddenly, the thought of the night when Arthur Weasley was attacked by Voldemort's snake last Christmas jumped into his mind, specifically the instrument that Dumbledore had tinkled with where the smoke had formed into a snake before dividing into two. After a few moments, he remembered his other two presents, so he placed the instrument onto his bedside table and turned to the still unopened gifts, intent on further examining the dragon later on in the day.

The third present was from Greta Catchlove and was a simple box of chocolate frogs from Honeydukes. Even though it was a relatively inexpensive gift, Harry was grateful to Greta for thinking of him, especially considering the fact that they had only been friends for a few weeks. Luckily enough, Harry had also gotten her something, which saved him from an awkward exchange when Greta came back from holiday. He placed the chocolate frogs on his bedside table, right next to the dragon, knowing that he would most likely be enjoying them shortly.

He then opened the last present, which was from Xenophilius. He was unsurprised to find a collection of blurry pictures that supposedly showed a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, along with a book that explained what exactly a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was. Harry flipped through it as he sat in his bed, still in his pajamas, and after a while, he put it off to the side, a large smile on his face. But then, suddenly, his smile ceased and his thoughts drifted off to Hermione, Ron, and the entire Weasley clan, and he wondered what he would be doing if he was still in that time.

"I'd probably be eating dinner at the Burrow," Harry whispered, looking off into the distance. "The dinner would be some kind of roast, along with some of Mrs. Weasley's delicious brown gravy and a side of roasted potatoes. We'd have dessert hours after because our stomachs would be too full to have it any earlier." He laughed, trying to overcome his sadness. His eyes flicked over to Hedwig, who hooted softly, trying to console her owner, and with a sigh, he allowed his mind to move to something else, knowing that it wasn't doing him any good thinking about something that could never be.

Hedwig hooted again, and he quietly got off of his bed and meandered over to his trunk, opening up one of the locks and pulling out an owl treat. He tossed it over to his owl, which dexterously caught it with her beak and swallowed it down in one gulp. He began walking back to his bed, but then ran back over to his trunk, having suddenly gotten an idea. He unlocked the lock that would lead to the library, and jumped down, before walking over to the table in the center of the room and grabbing the journal that housed Remus' memories. After grabbing the book, he grabbed a bottle of ink and a quill from the table, and then climbed back up the ladder.

He tossed everything onto his bed, and then opened up another trunk lock, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer and a few candy treats, before hopping back into bed. Positioning himself, he got comfortable, knowing that he had a few hours to entertain himself until the Christmas feast. _Calidius_, he thought to himself as he stuck his wand into the butterbeer bottle, trying to master nonverbal magic in order to better himself as a wizard. He took a sip of the butterbeer, and grinned when it was warm and soothing. "Ah, perfect," He whispered, leaning back in his bed and opening up a chocolate frog that Greta had given to him. He popped the head of the frog into his mouth before it squirmed its way out of his hand, and then bit down on it with a satisfying crunch.

"_Happy Christmas, Remus!"_ He wrote into the journal in long, loopy cursive, enjoying both his butterbeer and his chocolate frog.

"_Happy Christmas, Harry,"_ Black ink replied, making Harry briefly wonder if it would have known it was Christmas had he not said anything. _"How is your day? Did you get many presents?"_

"_A few,"_ Harry wrote back with a grin, just happy to have people in his life that thought about him on Christmas. _"I got one from Dumbledore, one from Hagrid, one from Greta, and one from Xenophilius."_

"_Greta Catchlove and Xenophilius Lovegood? Ah, yes, they were a year above me in Ravenclaw, weren't they? It suits you that you would find yourself friends with them, as they were always kind to me whenever we spoke." _Black ink responded, making Harry smile at the fact that Remus liked his new friends, just as he had Hermione and Ron.

"_Yeah, it was very, very nice of them to get me a gift."_ Harry wrote, feeling even greater happiness than he had just moments before. The melancholy that was nipping at his heart was seemingly fading into nothingness, and pure joy was taking its place.

"_Well, there is one more for you."_ Black ink wrote, before disappearing in a flash. _"In the library lock of the trunk, there is a book on the furthest bookshelf from the ladder on the right-hand side. On the second to bottom shelf, there is a book entitled __'Tricks of Defense Against the Dark Arts,__' go to it and open it, and you will see a gift from me."_

Harry did as he told, and when he found the book, he opened it up to the middle and saw that there was a hollowed out section that held a small box wrapped in Christmas paper. He returned to his bed and opened it, revealing a medium-sized glass top that spun on its tip. "A sneakoscope?" Harry said out loud, recognizing it from both the pocket version that he had gotten from Ron during his first year at Hogwarts and from the time he spent with who he thought was Alastor Moody, but in fact turned out to be Barty Crouch, Jr. Like Moody's version, this was a very expensive sneakoscope, clearly having cost Remus a decent amount of money in order to procure one this advanced.

"_Thank you, Remus. I'm sure this will come in handy when I leave Hogwarts." _Harry wrote, knowing the detail it must have taken in order to supply him a Christmas present months in advance. He briefly wondered just what other secrets that trunk hid, if any at all.

"_Merry Christmas, Harry." _The black ink wrote once more.

He spent the next few hours napping, eating snacks, petting Hedwig, writing in the Remus journal, and toying with the device that Dumbledore had given to him, mainly trying to figure out what it exactly did. Then, at three o'clock, he got dressed in nice clothes and walked down to the Great Hall for the Christmas feast, his stomach rumbling slightly. He was the only person in all of Ravenclaw to stay over Christmas break, which surprised him, considering the state of affairs of the wizarding world outside of Hogwarts. Though, it was probably reasonable that he was the only one to stay as the children of the magical folk would be protected by their parents if they left, while the muggleborn children would want to make sure their families were okay and to see them just in case anything should happen. As he neared the entrance to the Great Hall, his eyes fell upon the large round table that housed many of the teachers and a few students, as well having a couple of seats that were still open. On each side of the hall, there were twelve huge Christmas trees, decorated in large baubles, brilliant lights, real snow, and other spectacular ornaments, creating a wonderful ambiance that spoke of the beauty and elegance of the winter holiday.

After marveling at the trees, he made his way towards one of the open seats, before being called over by Hagrid. "Aye, I saved a seat fer you 'Arry, right next to me." Hagrid grinned, patting the chair next to him. Harry greedily took the seat, and smiled up at Hagrid, glad that the two were friends, no matter if it was the past or the future. Truth be told, he had counted on Hagrid to be there for him, to be able to listen as he spoke about his old time and the confusion that going back in time brought to him. Once seated, Harry took one of the rolls that was in a basket in the center of the table and started to butter it up, waiting on the rest of the students to arrive, as well as Professor Dumbledore. "Hungry, Arry?" Hagrid questioned with a smile, watching Harry scoff down the roll.

"Very," Harry agreed in between bites. "Thank you for the flute, Hagrid." Harry mentioned in a whisper, not wanting anyone else to overhear him. As he was pulling away from Hagrid, three students came in just then and took a seat next to each other. Their faces were lined with tear stains and their eyes were red, making it very easy for Harry to tell that something miserable happened to the trio, and as a result, they were not happy. Harry immediately, and correctly, assumed that their families had been attacked and this was their first Christmas without them, which made Harry extremely sad and angry.

"No problem, no problem, 'Arry, it was my pleasure." Hagrid grinned, drawing Harry's attention back to him, as Professor Dumbledore appeared in the hall, wearing brilliant purple robes that had twinkling stars embroidered upon them.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," Dumbledore smiled as he took his seat, apparently aware that no one else would be coming to the feast. Overall, around ten professors and other faculty members were there, with about the same number of students filling out the other seats at the table. "I hope you all had a good day and will have a great night, but now let us enjoy the food before us."

With that, food appeared on the large plates and in the large bowls that were scattered around the table: roasted chicken, baked potatoes, creamed spinach, macaroni and cheese, and countless of other dishes. Harry happily took a spoonful of everything, before he dug in, eating the feast as if it would be his last meal for a long time. "Ya weren't joking about being hungry, were ya, 'Arry?" Hagrid laughed, continuing to watch as the smaller wizard nodded his head in response, unable to talk due to the amount of food that he had in his mouth.

Soon enough, the table was cleared of food and everyone excused themselves as the night got late. "Did you enjoy your day, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned as the pair walked out of the Great Hall after dinner, Hagrid having left just minutes prior.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded with a grin, his stomach full from all the delicious food. "Thank you for your present, Professor, I'm still trying to figure out how it works."

"It's called a Druid Reflection Smoker; it possesses similar magic to the Mirror of Erised and a Remembrall." Dumbledore lectured, giving Harry the information that he desired. "Ask it any question that you want, even esoteric ones without answers like 'why was Merlin's beard long?' and, without fail, it'll tell you if you know the answer or not. It is a very insightful device, if I do say so myself, and has helped me a multitude of times over the course of my long life."

"Thank you again, sir." Harry replied, thoroughly grateful for Dumbledore's politeness and hospitality. He knew the older wizard was busy with both the Order of the Phoenix and being the headmaster of Hogwarts, but yet, somehow, he made time to talk to Harry, a fact that couldn't help but make Harry smile.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, seemingly thinking over something, before he opened his mouth and asked, "Harry would you like to come up to my office? Hagrid will be joining me, and I was wondering if you would like to join us, as well."

"Really, sir?" Harry said, his eyes lighting up with glee.

"Yes, of course." Dumbledore smiled, delighted that his offer had made Harry so happy.

"Absolutely!" Harry exclaimed, and then he was hit with a thought. "Can I meet you at your office in a second? I want to go get something from my room first."

"Certainly," Dumbledore nodded, before walking away, presumably back to his office.

Harry rushed up to his room, and went directly to his trunk, throwing open one of the locks and digging through the various items found therein. Throwing things across the room in an effort to find what he was searching for, he was a man on a mission. When the trunk was almost empty, he let out a yell of joy as he found what he needed, and pulled out an unopened box of sherbet lemons that he had gotten at a muggle candy store the previous summer. "There it is," Harry grinned, before raising his wand and saying, "Pack!"

Instantly, the various items that were scattered about his room zoomed back into the trunk, occupying the space that Harry had just rummaged through. Seeing that his room was back to being clean, he walked back down the stairs and out of the common room, entering the halls of the school once again. Quickly, he made his way to Dumbledore's office, where he found the stairwell already open. Once he reached the top, he quietly knocked on the wooden door, and waited patiently until he heard a muffled call to come in. Twisting the knob, he entered the office, a large smile on his face.

"'Arry!" Hagrid grinned, motioning Harry further into the office. "We were just speakin' about ya," The half-giant said, shuffling slightly to give Harry more room.

Harry smiled, and as he moved to take a seat at Dumbledore's desk, he paused and looked over to wall, where a large portrait of a former Headmaster usually hung. Instead, the portrait was slid open, revealing a large portal to what seemed to be stone chamber. "Shall we?" Dumbledore said, standing up from his chair and heading towards the newly revealed doorway, noticing Harry's curious gaze.

Harry followed the older pair through the portal, snorting in laughter at the fact that Hagrid had to bend over just to fit, before he exited into what appeared to be a foyer. Still following Hagrid and Dumbledore, they walked over to the other side of the small room, and trekked up a spiraling stone staircase, before reaching what looked to be a house common room, except a tad smaller. There was a roaring fire nestled between two large windows that overlooked the castle grounds, while much of the other walls were mostly lined with bookshelves full of large tomes. There was a doorway across from the fireplace that led somewhere, though Harry didn't know where exactly, but assumed it led to a bedroom. The corner of the room had a large Christmas tree, decorated in gold and silver baubles, along with a few porcelain ornaments that seemed to be in the shape of phoenixes. In the center of the room were couches and chairs, situated around a large oak coffee table that had dollhouse on top of it, each facing the fire and the panoramic view of the Hogwarts grounds.

"Is that a gingerbread house?" Harry asked when he got closer to it, and could see that it wasn't a dollhouse, but with the icing on the roof, was actually a gingerbread house. It was larger and more decorated than any gingerbread house he had ever seen before, looking more like a plastic dollhouse than the usually small cookie houses that were made around Christmastime. He wondered how Dumbledore had found the time to make such a house, what with fighting a war against Voldemort and running a school.

"Ah," Dumbledore smiled, walking over to where Harry was standing. Harry looked up at the older wizard, and noticed for the first time that Dumbledore did not tower over him anymore like he used to, but instead Harry now reached his chin. "Long story, that there. Would you like a butterbeer, Harry?"

"Please," Harry nodded, and then followed Hagrid's lead and took a seat in one of the chairs. He studied the bookshelves and saw that on one of them there was a muggle record player, with various records found all around it, and Harry's mind instinctively thought about Dumbledore's chocolate frog card. In it, it specifically stated that Dumbledore had liked "chamber music," and Harry couldn't help but smile at the realization that that fact was apparently likely true.

"Here you are," Dumbledore returned a few minutes later, handing a warm bottle of butterbeer over to Harry, while he himself had an unknown drink in his hands. He took a seat, and then stared over at the gingerbread house, admiring its craftsmanship. "My father was Percival Dumbledore, and he hailed from a long line of wizards that went back, well, just as long as the Potters do, in fact." Dumbledore started, wanting to explain to Harry the significance of the gingerbread house. "But my mother, Kendra, my beautiful and powerful mother, who was as wise as she was skillful with a wand, was a muggle-born, making me proud to be a half-blood just like you and just like Hagrid. My mother was a proud woman, both of her magical ability and her muggle heritage, and engrained into me at an early age an appreciation for muggle things, such as bowling, muggle literature, and yes, gingerbread houses."

In the corner of his eye, Harry could see a book resting on the table, next to the gingerbread house. Putting his butterbeer down onto the table, he picked the book up and read the title: _A Christmas Carol_. "Ah, Dickens," Dumbledore laughed, having watched Harry take the book into his hands. "He's one of my favorite authors, a vastly underappreciated writer, I think." He swished his wand at the aforementioned record player, and Christmas music in classical form started to play, while snow began to fall outside, which garnered the attention of both Hagrid and Dumbledore as they stared out the window.

Harry followed the gazes of Hagrid and Dumbledore, smiling when he saw the snow. He had always loved the snow: it was something that he could play with growing up that no Dursley could take from him, unlike many other toys that he had created on his own for himself. After a few minutes, he put the book back down onto the table, and picked up his butterbeer. Then, looking down at his lap, he realized he had forgotten to give Dumbledore his candy. "I got these for you, Professor." Harry said, handing the box of sherbet lemons over to the older wizard.

"Sherbet lemons," Dumbledore whispered, looking over to Harry with a large grin on his aged face. "Thank you, Harry; this was very nice of you."

Just then, the fire erupted in green flames, and an older wizard stepped out of the fireplace. "Aye, Albus, Hagrid," The old wizard said, nodding to each, before turning to Harry. "And who is this?"

"Moody?" Harry said, immediately recognizing the wizard once he was in better light for Harry to see him. "I mean, I'm Harry, and you are?" He corrected himself, hoping Moody hadn't heard him.

"Know my name, do you?" Moody grunted, hobbling over to a chair across from Harry on his wooden leg.

"Would you like something to drink, Alastor?" Dumbledore smiled, knowing that Harry was about to be interrogated thoroughly. They were old friends, having met in the early part of the century when Moody was a young student in Hogwarts, and had grown a friendship from that point on.

A few hours later, and after they bid their goodbyes for the night, Harry walked back to his room, yawning constantly. As he lay in his bed, he couldn't help but smile, realizing that he had had a great day, a wonderful Christmas that he would remember for a long time. With that smile on his face, he fell to sleep, dreaming not about the friends that he left, but the friends that he had in this time.

The break passed rather quickly, and before Harry knew it, he was sitting at the long house table of Ravenclaw, waiting for everyone to return. The wooden doors swung open and students began to file in, including many of Harry's housemates. When everyone was there and set, food appeared on the plates that littered the table and the noises of forks and knives took shape above the laughter and voices of the students, each telling tales of the glories of their respective Christmases.

"Hey, how was your break?" Harry questioned, looking over to the four dorm mates as they scooped up food onto their plates.

"I was extremely lucky—my neighbors were attacked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when my family and I were in Switzerland." Bertram Aubrey said, noticeably shaken up by the ordeal. While Harry didn't know very much about him, Bertram was a sarcastic wizard that often made jokes about things that most wouldn't joke about, so seeing him like this was especially shocking to Harry.

"Is everyone okay?" Derrick Jordan questioned in worry, hoping that nothing bad had happened to Aubrey's friends.

"Yeah, my neighbor's house was burned down, though." Aubrey admitted in a low voice, a little scared that Death Eaters had been in his neighborhood, but glad that it wasn't his family that was attacked. He didn't know what he would do with himself if his sister or parents were killed, a thought that he hoped would never come true.

Each lost in their own reflections, the group went silent as they all started to eat, and Harry leaned over to Derrick Jordan to ask him a question. "Do you think I could show you something to decipher for me later tonight? It's a scribble written in Ancient Runes."

"Sure, Harry." Derrick nodded, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

"Thanks," Harry grinned in appreciation, returning to his food. As he chewed, he looked over to the head table and noticed that Dumbledore's seat was empty. Briefly, he wondered where the older wizard was, but then realized that the most likely case was that he was dealing with an Order of the Phoenix problem.

As Harry was heading back to the common room later that night, a jinx came from out of nowhere and tripped him up. With a crash, he fell to the stone floor, his hands luckily bracing his fall, preventing any injury from occurring. "Forget about me, mudblood?" Rodolphus Lestrange said to Harry with a cackle, as he and his group of Slytherin friends walked over him.

"What a…" Harry growled, swelling with anger. Then, with a sigh, he picked himself up, dusted himself off, and continued walking in the direction he was headed, hoping that he would be able to calm himself down before he did anything rash and potentially stupid.

The next day, Harry brought over the Tales of Beedle the Bard book that had the runes written into the margin to Derrick. He opened the page and pointed to the scribble that he was curious about, and took a step back, giving Derrick some room to think. "Hm," Derrick whispered, running a finger over it, trying to translate it as accurately as he could.

Harry cocked an eyebrow, wondering what Derrick was thinking. "Do you recognize it?"

"Oh, yes," Derrick nodded, biting his lip, figuring out the precise translation. It was hard because the words didn't exactly have an equal meaning within the English language. As such, there was some room for interpretation that often caused much confusion and error. "It says 'deadly objects'." Derrick answered, staring down at the runes, making sure he was correct in his assessment.

"Deadly objects, hm?" Harry muttered, trying to figure out what that meant exactly. The reference was obviously to the items that Death had given to the three brothers, but what was the significance? That was a question he knew he would have to answer in order to understand what exactly Dumbledore wanted him to know.

"That's what it says, yeah, but since there is no context to it, it could very well mean something different." Derrick warned, handing the book back to Harry.

"Interesting, thanks a lot." Harry said, taking the book and tossing it over to his bed on the other side of the room. "I first thought it read 'kill inanimate', so I was close."

"It could be read like that," Derrick agreed with a quick nod of his head, having also originally read the second rune as inanimate just like Harry had. "Like I said, without a context, it could be a lot of things."

"Thanks again," Harry said, grabbing the book off of his bead and walking back over to his trunk, where he popped open the lid of the library lock and dropped the book down. It landed ten feet below with a thud, and Harry locked the trunk back up, not wanting anyone to see inside.

"No biggie," Derrick replied with a shrug, watching as Harry grabbed his books and headed to class.

A few minutes later, Harry walked through the halls, heading towards his Herbology classroom. As he turned the corner that would lead out to the greenhouses, a purple jinx zoomed towards him, and he quickly ducked out of the way, allowing the spell to zoom over his head and crash against the stone wall. "You missed," Harry muttered, dropping his bag and brandishing his wand, meeting Rodolphus Lestrange's gaze. Though he had his wand at the ready, he did not want to fight, so he quietly picked up his bag and continued to walk, and without incident, he passed by the older Slytherin.

"Coward," Rodolphus sneered under his breath when Harry didn't fight back, having expected Harry to roll over just as he did.

"You know what? Let's end this." Harry growled, spinning around to face Rodolphus once more, wanting to be done with the vendetta that Rodolphus had against him. "You and me, duel, tonight."

"Name the time and place," Rodolphus answered, taking a threatening step closer to Harry. They were around the same height, with Harry having had a growth spurt over the last few months, and as such, not being the short, malnourished child he was just a year prior.

"Meet me in the trophy room tonight at 1 o'clock." Harry replied, staring straight into Rodolphus' eyes, not wanting to show any sort of fear. He remembered when Draco had challenged him to a duel during his first year in an effort to get him in trouble, and figured he'd use the same place and time that Draco had used back then.

"You better be there, coward." Rodolphus grunted, and then turned around and left, confident that it would be a very easy duel for him.

That night, Harry arrived in the trophy room first, underneath his Invisibility Cloak, and waited for Rodolphus to get there, not anticipating Rodolphus to skip the fight. While Draco may have had ulterior motives for their duel, Rodolphus truly wanted to fight Harry and show his supposed pure-blood superiority. Just as Harry believed he would, Rodolphus arrived a minute or two later, flocked by a group of Slytherins, which included his brother Rabastan, Mulciber, Evan Rosier, and Severus Snape. "Who is your second?" Rodolphus questioned with a vicious grin, noticing that Harry was alone.

"I don't need one." Harry replied, gripping his wand and raising it until it was in front of his chest. He didn't want to drag Xenophilius into the fight, and he didn't feel comfortable asking anyone else to be his second, so he decided to go without one, intent to fight his own battles.

"You're cocky for a filthy mudblood." Rodolphus sneered, angry at Harry's apparent lack of respect for the ways of wizards.

Harry disregarded Rodolphus' insult, and instead just bowed, preparing himself for the duel. "On you," Harry whispered, staring at Rodolphus, wanting the other wizard to decide how the fight would go.

Rodolphus stared back for a moment, and then an unknown spell erupted from his wand. Harry dodged it, and sent a jinx at Rodolphus, who managed to throw up a shield to protect himself. "Averte Statum!" Harry yelled out when he saw an opening, blasting Rodolphus into the air and across the room before he could react to guard himself.

The Slytherin landed with a thud, and immediately got back to his feet, glaring at Harry with a hate in his eyes. "You'll pay for that, mudblood." He scathed, twisting his wand and releasing a sickly purple curse that would bend Harry's fingers backwards so he couldn't grip his wand.

"Really, is that all you got?" Harry chided, batting the curse down to the ground with a simple Dirigible Shield Charm that was taught to him by Remus during the summer. He watched as Rodolphus growled in fury and then raised his wand, a gleeful look on his thick face. Interested in what was coming next, Harry watched with a cocked eyebrow, assuming that something bad was about to happen.

"Imperio," Harry heard Rodolphus say, and immediately, there was a flash of blue light and his mind went clear as a result of the Unforgivable. The euphoric sense of tranquility washed over him for a moment, but then, with a whisper of why in his head, it disappeared and the glaze of his mind ceased to be. The curse was much weaker than it had been when Barty Crouch Jr. or Voldemort had performed it on him, allowing him to fight off the effects much quicker than he had been during the previous times. "What should I do with you, you pathetic little mudblood? You're under my control now." Rodolphus gloated, knowing that he would be able to do anything he wanted with Harry—if he wanted the wizard to jump off of the Astronomy Tower, he could order it; if he wanted him to attack the Headmaster, he could order it; if he wanted to make Harry look like a fool, he could order it.

"No, I'm not." Harry replied shaking his head, while staring straight at Rodolphus with disgust. "What, you think I would fall pray to you that easily?"

"Impossible!" Rodolphus snapped, backing away in fear, having never seen anyone capable of throwing off the Imperius Curse before. He had no idea such a thing was possible, either, as he had always thought the Unforgivable Curses were unforgivable because there was no known ways to protect against them.

"Not really," Harry said with a frown, raising his wand to Rodolphus' chest. "Time for you to get out of here, you lost." Silently, he swished his wand, and like Barty Crouch did to Draco when he was posing as Mad-Eye Moody during Harry's fourth year, he transformed Rodolphus into a white and grey ferret. "He'll turn back in five minutes." Harry murmured as he passed the other Slytherins, who all just looked at him, but did nothing to stop him. He grabbed his bag that was next to the door, and left the trophy room, not wanting to start a fight with anyone else.

He entered the hallway and after turning a corner, he leaned up against the wall and let out long, haggard breaths, somewhat tired from the nonverbal Transfiguration spell that he had performed. "He tried to use the Imperius Curse on me…he's not even out of Hogwarts, and he's performing Unforgivables already? Who are these people?" He questioned in a whisper, hoping that he truly ended the vendetta against him, rather than just flamed the fire. After all, if Rodolphus was willing to use the Imperius Curse, then the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse could very well come next, and that was a danger that Harry did not want to deal with. Even so, he had to admit that he handled himself well, having performed magic that he didn't know he could perform before then, a fact that gave him confidence that his abilities were growing like he wanted them to grow.

Trying to regain his breath, he started to walk back to the common room slowly. "Who's there?" He heard someone yell out in the distance, presumably a teacher. Quickly, he reached into his bag and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak, and threw it over his body just in time as Slughorn rounded the corner and looked for the out of bed student. Following that close call, Harry made his way up to his bed as quickly and quietly as he possibly could, not wanting to get caught and get detention. Once he was in bed, he fell asleep that night with a smile on his face, happy that he humiliated Rodolphus and hopefully got him off of his back for the time being. In the middle of the night, however, his happiness was drained away as he found himself in the Voldemort's mind once again.

_Voldemort appeared with a crack in a narrow, snow covered lane, and quickly made his way up the path and into the house that was in front of him._ _"Where is she?" Voldemort hissed to a masked Death Eater, who was too scared to answer verbally and instead just gestured to the other room. Turning on his heels, Voldemort marched over to the room that the Death Eater had pointed towards and entered. The sight that met him was unsurprising: the female that he had inquired about was tied up and gagged in the middle of the room. Around her, there were two small boys and a middle-aged man, presumably her sons and husband, respectively. _

"_You dare defy Lord Voldemort?" Voldemort screamed, grabbing her by the hair and roughly dragging her from the room, out into the hallway and out of the house entirely. He threw her down to the snow covered ground, where she landed face first; he wanted to completely embarrass her to make a point. With her face covered in snow, she stared defiantly up at Voldemort, not allowing him the pleasure to see the fear that was inside of her. "Lord Voldemort punishes those who go against him." He scathed, and then, giving her one last look of utter disgust, he raised his wand and pointed it directly in between her eyes. "Avada Kedavra!" A blast of green light immediately jumped from his wand, hitting the woman square in the chest, killing her instantly. _

"_The Aurors are coming, my lord!" A male voice called out from the distance. _

_Voldemort turned and stared at the night, seemingly sensing that the Ministry was closing in. "Kill the rest, then retreat." He said, before disappearing with a sharp crack. _

With a gasp, Harry jerked awake, his sheets wet from sweat and his breathing heavy. "That was…that was awful," He whispered, having a cold, dead feeling inside of him, as if he had just murdered that poor woman himself. He leaned back down, trying to ease his tension and his breath. "Never again, never again..." He promised himself, wanting nothing more than to stop the images of death and destruction that forced him awake nearly every night. It reminded him that, while he was protected inside the halls of Hogwarts, safely being an unknown person to the Dark Lord, the war was still out there, still happening, and it wasn't over and it would be coming for him soon—very, very soon.

A/N: I hope you have a great holiday, whatever one you celebrate. And a Happy New Year, too!

A/N: The etymology of the spells used in this chapter.

**Calidius**: it induces a warming effect. It comes from "Calido," the Spanish word for warm.


	13. Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Well, here it is the chapter you've all been waiting for. I told you someone would do something during the last chapter (Harry) that would kick things into gear. If Harry didn't say anything to her, she wouldn't be willing to do this.

S/N 2: I hope you all had a good holiday.

Chapter 13: Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Having some free time immediately after breakfast the next day, Harry made his way up to the library, intent on learning all that he could about Occlumency once more. He couldn't continue to see people die in his dreams like he had the night before; he just couldn't take it anymore, it was starting to have an effect on his emotions and his mental wellbeing. The strain of not being able to do anything, while suffering through watching all of the pain that was inflicted upon the innocent, was immense, and all he wanted was to end it as quickly as possible. While the last time he was only admittedly going through the motions in learning, both with Snape and by himself a few months prior, not believing that he could actually learn the mental art, this time he was going to dedicate himself entirely to the art for as long as it took him. After all, now he could not fail, nay he would not fail, knowing that he couldn't take much more of the visions he received while dreaming. So, after gathering as many books as he could find, he carried them all over to a secluded table and began to read through a few of them, all the while taking notes on some aspects that he found interesting.

"Still trying to learn Occlumency?" Bellatrix Black muttered as she came up to Harry an hour or so after he sat down, making him curse his horrid luck. Her gaze moved over to the stack of books that were on the table, which each dealt with the mind arts and mental magic.

"Yes," He growled, wondering why she wasn't in class like she should have been. Admittedly, he was a bit preoccupied to deal with her right now, though she had yet to do anything truly wrong except just annoy him.

"I was serious, you know." Bellatrix whispered, leaning towards Harry, not wanting anyone else to hear. A first year witch walked by the pair, and she waited until the girl was out of sight before saying, "I'll teach you..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, for a price." Harry replied distractedly, rolling his eyes, remembering the conversation they had the last time they had seen each other in the library. Knowing her, Harry knew that the price would be torturing a muggleborn or something of the ilk.

"All you would have to do is teach me how to conjure a Patronus." Bellatrix replied in a serious tone, wanting to convey that she really would instruct him in exchange for him instructing her. "I teach you something, you teach me something. That's fair, right?"

Harry jerked his head up to her, surprised by her proposition, having not expected that sort of exchange. "That's all?" He questioned, previously believing that her price would be a lot higher: he taught the Patronus Charm to the entirety of Dumbledore's Army, he could surely do it with just one person.

"That's all." Bellatrix nodded in the affirmative, truly believing that it was such a fair and equitable deal that he would be stupid to turn it down. It wasn't so much that she wanted to learn how to conjure a Patronus, rather she was just someone that couldn't stand not to be able to perform magic and strove to never experience weakness like that.

"I'll think about it." He replied easily, realizing to whom it was that he was talking. He couldn't teach her, could he? He hated her, loathed every second he spent with her, could he really tolerate spending entire learning sessions with her? Was learning Occlumency worth it? He had to decide that in order to come to a real decision, but until then, he'd see what he could work out by himself.

"The offer is on the table." Bellatrix said, before walking away, presumably to find the book that she originally came to search the library for before coming up to Harry.

"I could really use her help, or anyone's help for that matter, but…it's Bellatrix Lestrange." Harry muttered with a look of confusion on his face, not being able to see beyond her future last name. "Plus, I don't even know if I could help her conjure a Patronus, she looked pretty hopeless the last time I saw her try." He rubbed his eyes with his hands, trying to figure out what to do. "Then again, I do need help."

With the proposition in the back of his mind, Harry said the password necessary to gain access to Dumbledore's office later on in the day, and quickly jumped on the escalating staircase and rode it until it reached the top. He gave the wooden door two quick knocks, and was startled when the door was opened, revealing a smiling Albus Dumbledore. "Harry, how good to see you." The aged wizard said, taking a step back to let Harry inside. "I hoped I would see you today, I have your potion for you."

"Oh, thank you," Harry responded, walking with Dumbledore to get the potion from his desk. Dumbledore grabbed it from the top drawer, before handing it over to Harry.

Harry accepted the potion and pocketed the vial, before awkwardly tugging at his sleeve. "Sir," Harry started, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. However, regardless of his hesitancy, he knew he had to say something about the altercation that happened the previous night. "There was an incident recently, and long story short, Rodolphus Lestrange used an Unforgivable. The Imperious Curse, specifically."

"Truly?" Dumbledore questioned, earning an affirmative nod from Harry. Dumbledore took a seat at his desk, and gestured for Harry to take the chair across from him. "This is quite a serious accusation, Harry." Dumbledore rubbed his temple, sighing outwardly, showing to Harry how much pressure he was under for the first time. "As you undoubtedly know, all underage wizards and witches are monitored by a Trace Charm, which tells of any usage of magic around an underage wizard, no matter who performs it. Once they turn seventeen, that link is broken and it is not possible to monitor a person's magic. As such, there are many students, both sixth years and seventh years, that are impossible to monitor in any way, shape, or form, and because the younger wizards and witches are permitted to perform magic within Hogwarts, there is no monitoring of magic within the halls of any kind. Meaning, sometimes students get away with things that would be deemed illegal, immoral, and repulsive, unfortunately. The faculty of Hogwarts depends mostly on the students themselves to bring any misuse of magic to the attention of the staff."

Harry was surprised by Dumbledore's proclamation, that magic wasn't monitored in the halls of Hogwarts, as he thought Dumbledore knew about everything that happened within the halls. _Though, that wouldn't be really feasible, if I'm being honest_, he thought to himself. "Yes?" Harry said expectantly, believing that Dumbledore was leading to something where the end result would be the arrest of Rodolphus.

"While I do believe you in what you have relayed to me, unfortunately, Harry, there is really nothing we can do about it." Dumbledore admitted to the astonishment of Harry, who had anticipated a much different answer, one that included the Aurors and the Wizengamot.

Harry blinked for a few seconds, confused by what Dumbledore had said. "What do you mean, why not, sir? Surely Rodolphus should be punished. This is an Unforgivable we're talking about."

"Well, that's because in order to be proven guilty of using an Unforgivable, you usually have both eyewitness testimony and priori wand evidence in order to truly have a conviction. And, since you yourself can't testify against him, it makes it impossible to bring a case that will find him guilty." Dumbledore admitted, hoping to satisfy Harry's outrage with why he wasn't going to pursue a case against Rodolphus. "To prove your testimony true, they'll put you under veritaserum, and it is guaranteed that they most certainly will because Barty Crouch is a passionate advocator of its use. The moment they do, they'll ask you to say your name to make sure the potion is working, and as an answer, you'll say…Harry Potter."

"Oh," Harry whispered, realizing Dumbledore was correct in his assessment of the situation. If forced to be put under veritaserum, Harry would admit to who he was, blowing his cover as Dumbledore's grandnephew and creating a slew of potential problems. "I'm working on Occlumency, will that help?"

"It will, but you will certainly not be a master of it by the time you would be deposed. And before you ask, I am hesitant to use a memory charm on you because, quite honestly, I don't think you should be forced to forget your name or who you are even if it would just be for an hour or so and for a just cause." Dumbledore replied, impressed that Harry knew about Occlumency. It was a rare ability, one not taught at Hogwarts, meaning many people in the British magical community didn't even know it existed, let alone being able to actually perform it. "There is, however, something else I can do instead. I shall keep an eye on him from now on, a close eye, and if I am made aware of something offsetting, even something that may have been previously deemed as otherwise minor, then I will take action against him personally."

Harry thought about what Dumbledore had offered, and assumed that the older wizard meant expulsion from Hogwarts and perhaps the snapping of Rodolphus' wand. "But what about, I don't know, why can't they use veritaserum on Rodolphus himself?" He inquired, trying to find someway for the Slytherin to get the punishment he deserved.

Dumbledore lowered his gaze a bit, looking over is half-moon spectacles at the much younger wizard. "Senior Lestrange has paid a lot of galleons to make sure he and his comrades are insulated from any action against them," Dumbledore supplied, shaking his head, clearly a bit disgusted at thought of someone being able to buy their way out of justice. "That protection will also go to his son, as well, and someone on the Wizengamot would move to have you placed under it first, before it even got to that point. It's unfortunate, but there is truly nothing we can do about this specific instance. Like I said, I will be keeping a very close eye on him from this point forward. I don't like to assume darkness in anybody, that's why I haven't watched Rodolphus closely, and I apologize for that weakness of mine."

"Very well," Harry said, bowing to Dumbledore's idea, knowing that Rodolphus would eventually reveal his dark magic and get caught because of it.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Harry." Dumbledore said sincerely, getting to his feet along with Harry and walking the younger wizard to the door. "Like I promised, I will keep a close eye on Mr. Lestrange from this point forward."

The next day, Harry walked over to Bellatrix as she sat at the long Slytherin table, where she was discussing something quietly with Rabastan Lestrange. "We have a deal." He whispered into her ear, just loud enough that she was the only one to hear it. Rabastan looked up at him and gave a smile, not making any effort to curse or otherwise attack him, which confused Harry a bit as he thought Rabastan would move to defend his brother's pride.

"I knew you'd come around in time." Bellatrix grinned back, meeting Harry's gaze. "Meet me outside of the Great Hall tomorrow at noontime." She said, earning a nod of approval from Harry, knowing that it was a Saturday and that he would have all day free. Without saying another word, he walked away and over to the Ravenclaw table, presumably to eat his breakfast.

The day passed, and before long it was Saturday. Harry met Bellatrix in front of the Great Hall at the specified time, before she led him up to a small classroom that went unused during the school year. "I figured this was as good of a room as any," Bellatrix opined, making a motion with her wand that pushed the desks off to the side, leaving only two chairs in the center of the room, both facing each other.

"I guess," Harry agreed, not really concerned about it either way. He was there for one reason and one reason only: to learn Occlumency. In his mind, he didn't care if they were in the center of the quidditch pitch during a match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, as long as he was learning from her, he had no problems wherever they were.

"Now, where should we start?" Bellatrix questioned out loud, wondering who wanted to teach who first.

"You teach me and then I'll teach you." Harry responded, knowing that it would probably take more time to teach him Occlumency than it would to teach her how to conjure a Patronus. After all, for the Patronus Charm, once the wand movements were learned, all it took was a supremely happy thought and the proper mental state in order to make it work to satisfaction.

"Fair enough," Bellatrix nodded, taking off her school robes to reveal a purple shirt that had a picture of a band on it that Harry didn't know. Harry looked at the moving pictures on the front of the shirt for a second, before Bellatrix's voice threw him out of his stupor. "Why are you trying to learn Occlumency?" Harry stayed silent for a moment, forcing Bellatrix to say, "Really, I need to know why if I'm going to help you. It's crucial to know the whys in order to teach the hows."

"I have…a connection with someone that allows him to enter my mind whenever I'm asleep. I'm hoping to prevent that." Harry answered, leaving it as vague as possible in an effort to stay as secretive as he could. He didn't want to tell her anything about Lord Voldemort, both for the obvious reasons and for the fact that it could reveal his nature as a time traveler.

"What connection is that?" Bellatrix questioned curiously, furrowing her eyebrows, having never heard of such a thing. While still a student, she was well versed in various aspects of magic, having accumulated greater knowledge than most her age.

"Never you mind." Harry said, not wanting her to know, because it could potentially expose his secret. "Can you help me or not?"

"Well, I can surely try to help, though since I have no idea what type of connection this is, I don't know if it will indeed end up helping." Bellatrix admitted, needing more information in order to truly tell whether she could help him or not. The mind wasn't a simple book to read, but instead a difficult, complex organ, and without the exact information necessary, it was hard to pinpoint just what she would need to do in order to teach him. "Okay, the first step is clearing your mind; do you know how to do that?"

Harry shook his head with a shrug, indicating his lack of ability. "No," Harry answered honestly, not even trying to feign knowledge. "That's where my holdup is."

"Well, luckily that is the one of the basic steps in what I know about Occlumency, so I can teach you that." Bellatrix muttered, all the while thinking of a plan to teach Harry how to clear his mind. "Apparently, there is a way to use Occlumency to lie to someone by changing your memories, though I have not studied that yet, but I will soon enough. All I have studied so far is blocking intrusions in my head, preventing anyone from seeing my memories or reading my thoughts or inducing alien images into my mind."

"How do I do that?" Harry asked, wondering if she had a tip or a technique that would make it easier for him, perhaps the way she did it. "Clear my mind, I mean."

Bellatrix stayed silent for a few moments, before she nodded, seemingly thinking of a way to teach him. "What I want you to do tonight is to stare into a mirror for a half an hour. Just stare at it, and your mind will eventually just go blank. Then, when we meet tomorrow, I want you to tell me how it felt, what you experience, that sort of thing."

"That's it?" Harry asked, wondering if that's all it would take. Surely there was something else, something better than that as that didn't seem like it would be that beneficial to him.

"That's it." Bellatrix nodded in the affirmative, her lips pursed in seriousness. Truthfully, she didn't know if it would work, but she knew it would be a giant step forward in gaining the knowledge necessary in order to teach him what he wanted to know

Harry opened his mouth, before closing it again, mimicking a fish in water. "So…nothing else?" He again questioned, wanting to make sure he understood her correctly.

"Nothing else," Bellatrix repeated what Harry said, stressing every word, conveying the seriousness of her plan.

"If you say so," said Harry, shaking his head, somewhat disbelieving of its usefulness. After all, what could staring into a mirror really teach him? "I'll see you then." And with that, he left, departing from the room that they were in and walking back up to the Ravenclaw common room, a look of bewilderment clearly on his face.

Harry did as he was told before bedtime that night. He stood in the bathroom, just staring at his charmed face, barely recognizing the person that was staring back at him. Instead of his normal black, messy hair, he had brown-streaked hair that was long and relatively straight. Instead of brilliant almond-shaped green eyes, green speckled with blue were staring back at him. Overall, it was strange to him, knowing but not really knowing what he looked like exactly to the outside world.

"This is weird," He said to himself, giving out a great sigh, trying to concentrate on what Bellatrix had asked of him. After fifteen minutes of silently staring, his mind was totally blank in boredom. He wasn't thinking, he wasn't dreaming, he wasn't pondering, and he wasn't preoccupied with random thoughts, his mind was completely and utterly blank. He shook his head when another five minutes passed, and turned around and left the bathroom, totally confused on how that was supposed to help him in his pursuit of Occlumency.

"So, did you do it?" Bellatrix questioned him the next day when they were alone in the classroom that they had used the previous session, using her wand to clear out a space in the desks all the while.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, taking a seat at one of the two chairs that she had left in the center. "I did, last night before bed."

"And…?" Bellatrix replied, staring down at Harry expectantly as she stood over him, gazing at him with her violet colored eyes.

"And what, nothing happened." Harry replied, confusedly, wondering what she wanted from him. Did she expect something to magically happen, something extraordinary that would relay to him the secrets of the art of Occlumency? "All I did was stare at myself like an idiot."

"What did you feel, idiot?" Bellatrix snapped, rolling her eyes at Harry.

"Bored," Harry answered dryly, remembering how bored he was the night before. To him, it had been almost as bad as when Hermione would lecture him about doing a potions assignment or talk about some inane area of magic that they would never, ever need in their daily lives, though if he was honest with himself, those times were much, much more boring. "I felt very bored."

Bellatrix grinned smugly, like the cat that caught the cannery, seemingly appreciating herself. "There you go." She cried in a singsong voice, a rush of happiness seemingly overtaking her, her plan having worked to perfection just as she anticipated.

"There what goes?" Harry asked, completely perplexed by what she meant and by her sudden change in demeanor.

Bellatrix sighed and rolled her eyes once again, using every ounce of her patience to make sure she didn't hex him. "Before you go to sleep, think of something that makes you bored and eventually your mind will go blank, therefore protecting your mind from any intrusion." She pulled out the other chair that she had left in the center of the room and took a seat, facing directly across from Harry. "Obviously, you need a catalyst in order to blank your mind since you don't seem to be able to do it by focusing on it alone."

"Thanks, I guess." Harry said, slowly, trying to understand it all and tie it all together. _So in order to clear my thoughts, I have to think of something boring,_ he thought to himself, wondering if he understood her properly.

"Good, now let's try." Bellatrix clapped, getting back to her feet and gesturing for Harry to do the same. She took out her wand and held it loosely in her left hand, while using her right hand to tuck a strand of her black hair behind her ear.

Returning to the conversation, Harry cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she meant. "Try what?" He questioned with a sideways grin, standing back up, as well.

"Try to clear your mind, prat." Bellatrix muttered, finally losing her patience. For someone that seemed talented and powerful, having been able to nonverbally and nonchalantly cast a spell that she herself couldn't cast in the Patronus Charm, he sure seemed like a dense moron in her mind.

"Oh, okay." Harry nodded with a smile, noticing that he was getting under Bellatrix's skin, which he unsurprisingly appreciated. He stared at the far wall, just trying not to think of anything, and after a few minutes, he shook his head. "It's no use."

"You're still trying to actually clear your mind, aren't you? I thought I told you what you had to do—think about something boring to you, it's really not that hard." Bellatrix admonished, trying to engrain the information into Harry. Nodding, Harry closed his eyes, before opening them and staring at the wall once more. His mind drifted off to a time when Hermione drawled about some class or whatever, a memory that was hidden away in the back of his mind, and quickly, he was bored. Bellatrix saw his face and quietly raised her walnut wand, pointed it at Harry's head and said, "Legilimens."

Harry felt a pang in his head, but unlike the countless of times he had felt it under Snape's tutelage, no images of his life ever came. It was as if someone had entered his mind, but couldn't see anything so quickly left, retreating from the inner sanctuary of his thoughts. "I did it!" He excitedly said once the pang was gone, amazed that what Bellatrix had taught him had actually worked. Though, admittedly he had also used a lot of the information that he had previously gathered about Occlumency to try and protect his mind, too.

Bellatrix nodded, though she didn't seem as convinced as he was. "That was okay, but I saw your last memory. It was something about a bushy haired girl talking and talking and talking, right? Remember, just because you don't necessarily see the images, doesn't mean the intruder won't. Usually that is the case, but a more subtle and skilled Legilimens will make sure you yourself don't see it in order to continue their perusal of your mind. I'm not that skilled yet, but I'm working on it, which will help you, as well." She explained, withholding from him the fact that she hadn't tried very hard to invade his thoughts and memories, instead deciding to go easy in an effort to glean just how much natural talent he had for the art.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, knowing that that was exactly the memory that he was using to bore himself. "Do it again?" Bellatrix agreed, and Harry thought about the same memory of Hermione, and just as before, he was bored by it. He felt the pang again, but this time, images of his life started to pop up, and he tried with all of his might to faze Bellatrix out of his mind, hoping that she wouldn't see anything that could give his time traveling away. Then, the image of the Weasley family came into his mind, and his mental defenses immediately disappeared as he was overcome with love for them.

"No, no, no!" Bellatrix snapped, immediately after retreating from Harry's mind. "Leave your emotions out of your memories—you must have a clear mind, unencumbered by emotional baggage. If you think of something, just think about it; don't think about how it made you feel at the time that it happened." She sighed, noticing that emotions were beginning to filter into his memories the longer she was inside his mind and the deeper that she went.

"It's not as simple as you say." Harry said, angry with both himself and her for not understanding that emotions were important to him. He wasn't a cold, heartless being like she was; he had feelings that were deeply rooted in his core.

"Sure it is: be stoic." Bellatrix scathed mockingly, truly not comprehending how he couldn't do it. "Your emotions should play no part in what you think and how you act."

"Remember this conversation, because this is exactly why you will not be able to summon a Patronus." Harry muttered, heatedly, feeling the bellying anger inside of him. How dare she construe his emotions as some sort of flaw or weakness, as that was far from truthful: emotions made people strong, especially the most powerful of them all, which was love.

"At least I can occlude my mind." Bellatrix sarcastically replied, throwing her robes into her bag and marching over to the door.

"Have fun getting your soul sucked out by a dementor." Harry called out as Bellatrix walked out of the room and away from Harry, though he was not mad and he somehow knew she wasn't, either.

The next day, Harry cocked an eyebrow when he passed Bellatrix as the pair headed for their class. "Care to try again?" He questioned, hoping that she would agree, knowing that neither of them had accomplished much: he didn't learn Occlumency and she didn't learn how to conjure a Patronus.

"Okay," She nodded, seemingly not holding a grudge from the previous day, which surprised Harry a bit. In his time, she was so explosively angry that it seemed out of character for her to not be resentful from the previous day, though he supposed that her temperament may have been caused by her unhealthy stay in Azkaban prison. "Meet me in the same place right after dinner." She said, earning a grin from Harry as he walked into his Defense classroom, taking his usual seat next to Derrick Jordan, with she herself taking her own seat just moments later.

A/N: Bellatrix will pretty much become a main character from this point on, akin to the way Sirius was in my last story.


	14. The Contest and the Pursuit of Happiness

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Quidditch isn't a part of this story for multiple reasons: its hard to write quidditch scenes without getting boring; there were no positions open on the Ravenclaw team so Harry had nowhere to play; Harry is really, really focused on learning this school year; and finally, quidditch was a large part of my last story 'Harry Potter and the Power of the Past', and it will be a large part in the epilogue chapters that I write/the sequel to Power of the Past.

S/N 2: Bellatrix's character will be evolving over the course of this story, and just about any question you have will be answered eventually.

Chapter 14: The Contest and the Pursuit of Happiness

"Hello class," Professor Moonshine started, jumping up to her feet when she saw it was time to begin. "It's nice to see you again. I trust that you all had a pleasant holiday and a good break from the schoolwork that you have done up until this point, as I know I certainly did. As I am sure you all remember, last semester we discussed various dark creatures and ways to combat them should you ever have the unfortunate experience of running into them. This semester, we will be discussing dark magicks, such as curses, hexes, and jinxes, before capping off our studies with a dueling competition between sixth year students in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

The class all broke out into excited whispers, with Harry and Derrick grinning from ear to ear at each other, clearly enthusiastic about the prospect of a competition. "Now, now, it will not be happening until at least a few months, and more details will be announced throughout this semester, but I just wanted to give you some minor information about it so you have something to which to look forward." Moonshine said over the whispers, though she did not tell them to quiet down. "Hogwarts always used to have this dueling competition for sixth years back when I went to school, but it was discontinued for a while. However, now I think it is an appropriate time to restart the tradition in order to further protect you from any dangers that may come about when you leave the safety of this school. As for why it is done during your sixth year, and not another year, it is simply because during your fifth year you have your O.W.L.S., while your seventh year you have much more important N.E.W.T.S. tests than you do this year, though this year's exams are certainly important, as well. Before the competition comes, however, you must pay attention and do your work, because we will be going over spells and counter-spells that are extremely dangerous, so you need to be prepared."

"When will it be, professor?" Rabastan Lestrange questioned from his seat next to Bellatrix at the front of the class. Harry looked over to the pair, and noticed that Bellatrix seemed to be excited about the tournament due to the large smile that she was wearing on her face, a relatively rare sight to see.

"Like I said, I have no details so I cannot tell you just yet." Moonshine replied easily, understanding their newfound energy. "Now, onto what we will be studying this term: curses, jinxes, hexes, and how to defend them all." She clapped her hands, and white chalk writing appeared on the blackboard that was at the head of the classroom, outlining the history of curses, jinxes, and hexes. The rest of the class was spent learning about how some of the more famous dark magical spells evolved into their present forms, which was a fascinating subject, albeit boring and dull at times.

A few hours later found Harry standing in front of Bellatrix, once again trying to shield his mind from her intrusions. "No, no, no!" She berated him again and again, going over what he needed to do once more. "These are only your memories; keep whatever feelings you have for them out of it. If you want to look back on them and feel whatever they mean for you at a specific time, that is fine, but when you are passively storing them in your mind, keep the emotions out of it."

"It's not easy for me, okay?" Harry shot back, trying to get her to understand for once that he was emotional. "I'm not a machine; I can't just shut down how I feel. I never could and I probably never will. It's the reason why I'm not very good at Occlumency, obviously."

"Well," Bellatrix replied, trying to find her words, knowing that he would need to overcome the emotional weakness that he had in order to further protect himself. "Then perhaps you should continue thinking about all the memories that bore you and keep them at the front of your mind as a buffer, that way you have some time to try and push the intruder from your mind before they start delving into more emotional memories. It's an archaic and pathetic method, but I'm sure it'll suit you just fine." She finished with a large, condescending grin, admiring her putdown.

"That's…that's not bad." Harry said, impressed, wondering why he had never thought of that before. _Because I wasn't really trying to learn before now_, Harry answered himself, knowing how lazy he was back in his own time. "See was that hard, you know, actually giving me something constructive to work on?" Harry questioned, having ignored the insult that she threw his way in an effort to be nice to her.

"I've never met someone who's most constructive emotional state is boredom, I'm sorry." Bellatrix rolled her eyes, playfully. "Like take me for instance, when I look in the mirror, I feel angry, so anger is the emotional state that I use to protect my mind. It works."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, meeting her violet gaze with his own. "Anger? Why anger?" He questioned interestedly, wondering why she was angry when she looked in the mirror. Was something wrong? Was her life so bad that she was angry all the time?

Bellatrix shrugged disinterestedly, not really caring why she felt that way. "I don't know, just is. I'm an angry person, I guess."

Harry frowned at that, though admitted that it made sense from what he knew about the Bellatrix from the future. "I'll work on the boredom buffer, and hopefully by the next time we meet, I'll be able to push you out of my mind before you get to my more emotional memories."

"Don't count on it," Bellatrix said, though Harry could tell by her tone of voice that she was kidding. She often drawled out her words, as if she herself was bored, but when she actually inflected some sort of emotion in her words, they were often part of a joke that she was saying—of course, most of the time her jokes were at the expense of other people.

As he was walking back up to his room later that night, he saw Severus Snape talking to his mother, seemingly telling her a joke that made her laugh outwardly. "What?" Harry questioned somewhat confusedly, pausing to watch the exchange in curiosity. As far as he could recall, he had never seen them together before other than that one time in Snape's worst memory, and quite honestly, it was a weird thing to see. Then, they both hugged and walked opposite ways, as Severus jumped down the stairs that would lead to the dungeons and Lily walked down the hallway that led to the library.

"Wait, she's still friends with him?" Harry exclaimed disbelievingly, skeptical that he had actually seen his mother and Severus Snape laugh with one another. He recalled back to the time when she had mentioned Severus' name in a previous conversation, but he was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what Snape had against him to follow up with her about being friends with him. "I still don't understand how that can be, though. Didn't he call her a mudblood?" He whispered to himself, quickly recalling the memory that he had seen while he was working with Snape during his Occlumency lessons. "What do I do? I can't just go up there and ask 'oh, hey Lily, why are you friends with the sniveling bat, I mean Severus Snape?' She would probably hate me. This needs tact, I'll think of something." Harry muttered, bringing his left hand up to his chin in thought and continuing on towards the Ravenclaw common room.

The next week, Harry took his seat in his transfiguration classroom, and then opened up his bag and pulled out his parchment and quill. In the corner of his eye, he noticed that McGonagall was sitting at her oak desk with a small smile on her face, seemingly reading a piece of parchment that was in her hand. "What is she reading?" He asked himself, curious about what it was that was making such a stern woman smile.

"As I'm sure Professor Moonshine has told you all previously, students, we will be having a sixth year dueling competition this semester." McGonagall started, pocketing the parchment and standing up in front of the class. "I am pleased to inform you how it will happen and what the rules are going to be." She paused as whispers erupted throughout the class, allowing the students to voice their excitement. Harry noticed this was a trait that she possessed in this time, and cocked an eyebrow at it, wondering why his McGonagall would threaten the class with detention if they spoke up out of turn, while this McGonagall didn't do anything near the sort. "Each house will have an individual competition amongst themselves, with the winner of the house moving onto the semifinals. Then, the four house champions will draw lots to decide who duels who, with the two winners moving onto the finals, where they will meet to take the prize."

"Do we have to enter, professor?" A male Hufflepuff that Harry didn't know questioned, not really interested in dueling.

"No," McGonagall shook her head in the negative, looking over to the young wizard. "Students are free to decide if they want to participate or not, and if you decide against it, there will be no penalty against you." Seeing that there were no other questions, McGonagall nodded and moved over to the teaching podium that hosted her opened transfiguration book. "Now, onto today's material: I expect you all to have mastered the nonverbal conjuration of a goblet, followed by a nonverbal transfiguration of the previously conjured goblet into a bird. And then, after this brief furlough into conjuration and inanimate to animate transfiguration, we will resume our studies of animation."

Harry sighed and opened up his book, trying to muster the confidence in his transfiguration ability that he would need to perform the spell. He knew he could do it; after all, he had performed human transfiguration nonverbally just a few nights prior when he transfigured Rodolphus into a ferret. Even still, he understood that McGonagall expected a lot from her students, and as such, he was quite nervous about showcasing his abilities. Sighing once more, he ran his finger over the goblet conjuring spell, trying to remember everything he needed to memorize before turning to the spell that would transfigure the goblet into a bird. He tested his conjuring and transfiguring skills for a few meager minutes, practicing both spells he would need to perform for the exam, before turning his attention back to McGonagall, who was standing at the front of the class, waiting for the students to be ready.

"I expect the goblet to look like this," She said, gesturing to a large silver goblet with lines engraved throughout and small black stones coating the rim. "And I expect the bird to look like this," She said once more, pulling a sheet off of the metal cage that was now on top of her podium. To Harry, the bird looked like a crow, though he could never tell the difference between a crow and a raven—they were both black to him. She allowed the entire class to study the bird and the goblet for a few minutes before covering them both back up, blocking anyone from getting another look until after they had performed the spells. "Now, who wants to go first?" She inquired loudly, searching around the class for a volunteer, assuming someone would have the courage to step forward. A boy in the center of the room tentatively raised his hand, and McGonagall immediately called him up to perform the spells for her, impressed by his initiative.

In time, five people had gone, each with mixed results, before Harry took his step forward. "Ready, Dumbledore?" McGonagall questioned, looking at Harry expectantly, eager to see his skills.

Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and thought as hard as he could about the goblet. With its silver shinning in his mind and the black stones shimmering, he swished, flicked, and snapped his wand, all the while saying the conjuring spell in his thoughts. When he opened his eyes, there was a large goblet sitting on the table in front him, and he smiled, studying it to see that it matched McGonagall's goblet. It was a tad bigger than the real goblet, and the lines weren't nearly as detailed as the other goblet was, but the black stones and the overall design were a perfect match. "Not bad, Dumbledore," McGonagall said with a nod, clearly happy with the results, regardless of the conjured goblet's differences from the real version.

Without saying a word, Harry made a few motions with his wand, transfiguring the goblet into a black bird with a speck of white on its wings and a dark black beak. When McGonagall took the sheet off of the cage and revealed the real bird, Harry noticed immediately that he missed the location of the white spots: they were on the real bird's neck, not the wings as he had thought they were. "Perfect match on the size and shape of the spots, not nearly perfect on the location, however." McGonagall noticed, looking between the real bird and the conjured one. "Overall, good attempt. You pass on each of the spells, Dumbledore."

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said, taking his seat again in order to watch his classmates take their turn. As more and more of the students went up, McGonagall graded tougher and tougher, wanting to lessen the benefit that the later students had since they were able to see the bird and the goblet more than the earlier students had, which gave them a tangible advantage. When a student failed the test, and many of them did, they were forced to write a report on how they went wrong, as well as take the test again during the next class. Overall, when the class was over, Harry felt happy with his progression in transfiguration and walked out of the room with a large smile on his relatively handsome face.

The weekend came, and with it, Bellatrix and Harry met once again in the unused classroom that they had adopted for their lessons. "Sorry I'm late; a few Slytherins were being annoyingly nosy and followed me; I wanted to lose them before I showed up." Bellatrix apologized, lifting her bag off of her shoulder and placing it down onto the floor.

"Who?" Harry inquired, getting to his feet, not really caring that she was late. He understood that sometimes things made you run a bit tardy—after all, how many times had he been late in his life?

"A few of your friends," Bellatrix muttered, as she shuffled through some of the things in her bag, seemingly searching for something. "You know the ones who sneer at the mere mention of your name, the same ones that tried to Imperiuse you."

"What?" Harry questioned with wide eyes, realizing that his altercation with Rodolphus probably wasn't as much of a secret as he thought it was. _Then again_, he thought to himself, _I didn't think it would be a secret for very long_.

"You think they don't remember that you staved off an Imperius curse?" Bellatrix smirked at Harry's dumbfounded face, looking up from her bag for a second. "Mulciber, Rosier, and Rodolphus talk about it all the time: the only reason why they haven't gotten you back yet is because they're more impressed with it than angry about what you did. They're idiots for talking about it and more than likely they are going to get Rodolphus in trouble, but they speak of it every other day or so. Not to the general Slytherin community, mind you, but still, the walls have ears sometimes."

"Great," Harry sighed, having not wanted to start a war. Shaking his head, he remembered the thought that had run through his mind immediately after the duel, one that wished that he didn't just fan the flames, but actually put an end to the vendetta once and for all, which was apparently not the end result as he had hoped it would be.

"Get off it; they're just a bunch of fools, especially my cousin, he's the worst one." Bellatrix told, closing her bag and grabbing her wand, before walking up to him. "Are you ready? I expect you to be able to throw me out of your mind just as you would someone Imperiusing you."

"Cousin?" Harry interrupted, confused by who she had meant. As she had not mentioned either Regulus or Sirius in the conversation, whom he had thought were her only cousins in Hogwarts, he had no idea who she was referencing by saying her cousin.

"Evan Rosier, he's my cousin." Bellatrix distractedly answered, having thought he knew that. "My mother is his father's sister. But back to what I was saying, I expect to see that Imperius Curse immunity to translate into Occlumency."

_That's why they both have similar heavy lidded eyes_, Harry thought to himself, seeing a resemblance between the pair for the first time, _Narcissa Malfoy has the same eyes, as well_. Then, turning his attention back to Occlumency, he shook his head, knowing it wasn't possible. "They're not the same thing, though." Harry said, knowing that there was a difference between the two practices. To him, throwing off the Imperius Curse was an unconscious action, while performing Occlumency was something that he had to actively do.

"Sure they are. Someone is entering your mind in both, correct? Given, there's a different context in each, but the same content and result." Bellatrix replied, disregarding his comments without much thought. "Here we go—Legilimens!"

Immediately, Harry felt Bellatrix enter his mind and he instantly thought about all the boring conversations that he had about school with Hermione. Another memory flashed, and another one, each one more boring than the last, before Harry paused on one memory, having expected it to come eventually. In the memory, Hermione drawled on and on about how Ron and him needed to start doing their work weeks before they were due, which of course they never did. As the memory continued, Harry's mind suddenly went blank and no further memories flashed into his mind, protecting his emotional memories from weakening his mental defenses, and as a result, his thoughts from being read. He could feel Bellatrix retreating from his mind, slowly, so he actively tried to push her out, confidence in his abilities growing and growing as he fought back. With one more great push, Bellatrix was thrown out of his mind, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts and memories once again.

"The barrier worked!" Harry said excitedly, thrilled to have finally found something that gave him some hope that he could actually become an Occlumens. If he continued to work on his barrier, maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to keep Voldemort from entering his mind just as the Dark Lord had been able to do back in his own time.

"Yes, it did," Bellatrix approved, withholding the information that she was still holding back with the spell. She hoped that if he were to build confidence in his abilities, he would actually be able to do what he needed to do to really protect his mind from intrusion. "Hopefully, with more practice, you'll be able to push me out quicker and quicker as we go along. Though, admittedly, your emotional control leaves much to be desired—you wear your heart on your sleeve, a trait I don't think you'll ever be able to change."

"Right," Harry agreed, still feeling the high that success brought to him. "I'm practicing every night, and the barrier will only get stronger and stronger, I think."

"What about your dreams?" Bellatrix inquired, furrowing her brows, wanting to know about his main problem, the issue that started the teaching lessons in the first place. "Are you clearing your mind before you go to sleep?"

"Sure am, I haven't felt anything since I started boring myself to sleep." Harry smiled, realizing how ridiculous that idea sounded. "So, I have to admit, I'm a bit tired to continue Occlumency lessons right now, but I'm more than okay with starting to teach you your Patronus, if you want."

"That's fine with me," Bellatrix nodded, not wanting to crush his confidence by forcing him to do it again when he wasn't prepared. Over the past few weeks, she had really started to understand how to teach him and how not to teach him—attacking his intelligence did not work, she found out one rainy night that she tried her very hardest to forget. That night had also proven to her that he had a natural knack for unconsciously sending out Stinging Hexes whenever someone penetrated his mind too far for him to mentally fight, as the black mark that she had on her wrist for a few days after showed.

"Why do you want to learn to conjure a Patronus?" Harry asked with a smile, taking a seat on one of the desks. He stared at her with an amused expression, liking the sudden change of positions, wanting to toy with her a bit just as she had toyed with him.

"Very funny," Bellatrix drawled, believing him to be mocking her question from when she first started teaching him Occlumency.

"No, I'm serious," Harry said, his smile retreating from his face, not wanting her to think he wasn't genuine in his promise to teach her. He fully intended to teach her to conjure a Patronus, no matter how long it took him and no matter how many days they had to go at it, but he also wanted to have a good time while doing it. "Why do you want to learn to conjure a Patronus?"

"To protect myself, I guess." Bellatrix replied, not wanting to tell him that she only wanted to learn how to conjure one because she couldn't do it. To her, just knowing how to do magic was the quintessential reason to learn magic, rather than the actual effects that the magic brought about. As such, it was more of an issue of pride, rather than a safety concern for her.

"To master a Patronus, one needs to have complete recall of their most cherished and happy memories. Unlike Occlumency, where the point is to sever the emotional connection, conjuring a Patronus needs and craves the emotions of the memory. That emotion needs to be happiness, of course, an emotion that doesn't seem too hard to conjure, but in practice, its bloody murder. However, there is a way around this: all you need to do is feel happy any way possible, it doesn't actually need to hail from a memory specifically. It could be a thought, a dream, a desire; it doesn't matter, as long as it makes you superbly happy. Without happiness, you simply will not be able to conjure a Patronus, no matter how perfect your wand movements are."

"Happiness," Bellatrix mumbled with a nod, inwardly trying to figure out where she had gone wrong in all of her previous attempts to summon a Patronus.

"Yes," Harry nodded as well, noticing her changed demeanor. She wasn't as feisty as she normally was, instead more lifeless, as if she was uninterested in what he was saying. "What exactly makes you happy?"

"I…I don't know, things." Bellatrix said, slowly, trying to think of something, though her mind was drawing a blank. Having to come up with something that made you happy on the spot was incredibly difficult, she noticed for the first time in her life, a fact that surprised her a bit.

"Well, think of those…things and concentrate on them. Ease your mind and just bask in how happy they make you, how content they make you, and then perform the spell." Harry recited, trying to get Bellatrix to understand that she needed to be happy or else all of her work would be for naught. "You see, like this, I'm thinking about the memories that make me happy, you know the ones that you scolded more for back when you started teaching me." Then, Harry made a few motions with his wand and a silver mist erupted from its tip, before it condensed into a stag that pranced happily around the room. The stag lingered for a few more moments, before disappearing, leaving the witch and the wizard alone once more. "Let's see your wand movements and your verbal spell work. It's 'Expecto Patronum'."

"I'll try it," Bellatrix said, skeptically, not really knowing if she could think of a happy memory. She closed her eyes and a smile appeared on her face after a few seconds, a smile that made her aristocratic looks really pop out, making her quite beautiful looking to the outside perspective. "Expecto Patronum!" She yelled out fiercely, trying to mimic Harry's wand motions that he had performed just seconds before. Unlike with Harry, however, nothing happened, not even an incorporeal mist.

"Firstly, you messed up the wand movements, but we'll fix that." Harry acknowledged, recognizing that she had twisted the movements from what they should have been, just as he remembered her doing when they practiced it in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "Secondly, are you certain you were deeply happy? Sure, I saw the smile, but were you actually happy? The happiness that you feel cannot be skin deep or superficial, it has to be real and true, and until you feel that happiness, you will not be able to conjure a Patronus."

"Thanks for the information," Bellatrix seethed, angry with herself that she couldn't perform a simple spell. It had never happened to her before, as she had always been able to perform whatever spell that she had come about, regardless of its difficulty and the strength necessary to perform it.

"I'm just trying to help," Harry whispered, changing his tactics when he saw how frustrated she was becoming. "Listen, why don't we stop now and meet back up in a few days? Over that time, I want you to think of a memory or a thought that makes you so happy that you just can't help but grin from ear to ear, okay? Then, when you do that, hopefully you'll be able to form an incorporeal shield, and then with time, a corporeal Patronus. We'll work on your wand movements next time, as well."

"Fine," Bellatrix muttered, grabbing her bag and walking out of the room, leaving Harry alone. Shaking his head, Harry left soon after, making his way back up to his room, wanting nothing more than a good night's sleep.

As he rounded a corner, he bumped into his mother, who seemed to be heading towards the library. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Lily smiled, looking up to Harry. "I should have been paying more attention."

"Nonsense," Harry grinned, happy to see his mother as he always was. He noticed that she was going to the library a lot lately, and he briefly wondered why that was, though he assumed it was just because of her O.W.L.S. "I should have been the one paying more attention."

"You know, we sure run into each other a lot." Lily pondered, realizing that it was nearly once or twice a week that they saw one another in the hallways. Not that she was complaining, it was a just a coincidence that she was amused by and wanted to point out to him.

"Funny that," Harry laughed, hoping she wasn't implying anything. However, he too had noticed that he saw her much more than he saw his father, which disappointed him a bit as he wanted to see them equally. "I guess Hogwarts really wants us to be friends, no?"

As if Hogwarts had read his thoughts, Harry's breath hitched just then when he saw his father walking straight towards them. "Oi, how's it going, Dumbledore?" James questioned, looking over at Harry, though Harry could tell he was keeping his gaze firmly on Lily.

"What do you want, Potter?" Lily asked with a hint of venom in her voice, making Harry wince, realizing that this was the first time they had truly interacted in front of him in person.

"Just seeing how my friend Harry is," James replied, grinning wildly at Lily, running a hand through his hair. While James' eyes showed a boyish charm, Harry could already see the love that the boy held for Lily in them, which made him inwardly smile.

"I'm sure you are," Lily rolled her eyes in near disgust, loathing the way he wanted his hair to look as if he had just gotten off of a broom. And then, ignoring James and looking over at Harry, she said, "I should be going. I'll see you, Harry."

"Bye," Harry said, raising his hand and waving as he watched her walk away. James looked over to Harry, who just shrugged, before he ran after Lily, making Harry laugh.

A/N: The next chapter has some dueling in it, a lot of Bellatrix, and the introduction of a character that you all know about already from the real books and who will become important later on so be ready for it. Also, it was in chapter 9, the Fiery Altercation, that Lily implied that she was friends with Severus in a conversation to Harry.


	15. Problems Spelling

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Any questions about the timeline or the characters? Review and I'll answer them.

S/N 2: This is not my favorite chapter, but alas, it was a chapter that needed to be done eventually. There will be more Bellatrix and dueling next chapter, count on it.

Chapter 15: Problems Spelling

Weeks passed, and before long, it was already Valentine's Day. While Harry had thought about asking Greta Catchlove out on a date for the day, he waited too long and she was asked by Milton Curd instead, disappointing him a bit and leaving him in an awkward spot. Xenophilius, too, had a date with the Gryffindor woman Harry presumed would one day become Luna's mother, as she had the same silvery eyes and blonde hair that Luna had. Since she was a year or two younger than Harry, he didn't know much about her, not even her name, though he knew that she was strangely normal in comparison to Xenophilius, a fact that surprised him considering how glowingly Luna had spoken about her—he had previously thought that they had more in common than just bravery and intelligence. Even still, while he was alone for the day, it didn't stop him from going into Hogsmeade, intent on having a good time regardless.

It was snowing lightly when he stepped into the Three Broomsticks to grab a butterbeer, content to sip on a nice warm drink while reading a book. As he searched for a seat, he saw a few happy couples before his gaze fell over a Slytherin group that included Bellatrix, the Lestrange brothers, Snape, and a few other boys and girls. Seeing an open seat in the corner, he walked over to it, ignoring the snickering that was coming from the Slytherin table as he walked by them and took his table.

"Look at that mudblood, he has no friends." He heard Rodolphus say, making the table erupt in laughter. Harry glanced over to the table once more and gave them all a large smile, killing them with the fact that he didn't care about their taunts and was unaffected by their jeers. For a brief second, his vision met Bellatrix's, who just stared blankly back at him, before turning her attention to her friends, specifically Avery, who was seemingly telling a story.

"Hello there stranger, can I take your order?" A much younger Rosmerta questioned him, gazing down at the wizard. To Harry, and many other Hogwarts males, she was a very attractive witch, having a pretty face and a curvaceous body that added to her kind demeanor.

Harry drew his attention away from Bellatrix, and looked up to the barmaid, giving her a smile. "Oh, I'll just take two mugs of hot butterbeer, please." He answered, not wanting her to have to come back and get him a second drink after he finished his first.

"No problem," Rosmerta nodded in the affirmative, turning around and walking back over to the bar, presumably to gather Harry's drinks. Harry's mind drifted off to nothing in particular, and his gaze was stationary on the dusty windows across the room, as everyone around him chatted happily with their friends, families, and significant others.

After a few minutes, Rosmerta returned with Harry's butterbeers, placing them down onto the table in front of the boy, before turning around and walking over to the next table. As Harry enjoyed his butterbeer, he briefly stared around at the other occupants, mostly couples, and after seeing their laughter, loneliness stole over him. He had no one in this time; perhaps save for Hagrid and Dumbledore, even though Dumbledore was much too busy to spend any meaningful time with Harry. Even so, he really had no one else, no real friends outside of Xenophilius or family, nothing, he was completely alone and it was starting to tug at him. He knew he had to be strong, to continue learning like he had been doing, but still, it hurt sometimes, this being one of them.

Shaking the negative thoughts from his mind, and not noticing Bellatrix looking his way, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, leather-bound book that he had gathered from the stack of items that Dumbledore had left for him. He tapped his wand on it twice, which expanded the book back to its natural size so he could read its pages. Opening up to the first page, he started to read, all the while taking a sip from one of his butterbeers. He turned the page, and read a short handwritten paragraph that discussed Dumbledore's past in the great wizard's own words. When he finished reading, his eyes were wide as he stared off into the distance: he was shocked to have read that Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore were once friends when Dumbledore was just a teenager. The paragraph on the topic went on to say that, while evil, Grindelwald still felt the need to justify his actions by saying that they were for the greater good, which gave Dumbledore hope that Grindelwald would be redeemed one day, though he dared not wager a guess on when and how that would happen.

"What would draw Albus Dumbledore to be friends with Gellert Grindelwald?" Harry questioned quietly to himself, wondering what it was that Dumbledore had seen in the dark wizard. Why were they friends? How could they be friends? Wasn't Gellert Grindelwald one of the most evil wizards of all time, perhaps second only behind Lord Voldemort himself, while Albus Dumbledore was supposed to be a beacon of light and goodness? Wasn't Dumbledore supposed to be a stout protector of nobility and innocence, a sentinel that guarded against the dark? Those questions floated through Harry's mind as he continued to read, wanting to get to the bottom of the story between the pair. However, the subject was not broached for the rest of the pages, leaving his questions unanswered for the time being.

After finishing most of his book and drinking his two butterbeers, he got to his feet and headed towards the door. As he was leaving, he bumped into Sirius and Remus, who said hello as they took the table that he had just departed, Peter Pettigrew following closely behind them. Entering the main street of Hogsmeade, he saw Greta walking hand in hand with Milton in the distance, which made him quicken his pace towards the gates of Hogwarts, not wanting to get stuck in the middle of that awkward exchange. On his way back to the castle, he stopped and said hello to Hagrid, and after an hour long visit, made his way up to the Ravenclaw common room, happier than he had been before. He entered his room and tossed his book onto his bed, where it bounced off of the mattress and landed on a fluffy pillow. "Hey," Harry said to boys in the room, who all said hi back in their own way.

"You know, Harry, I was thinking," Derrick started, biting his lip in thought from the window. He was sitting on the sill, looking over the Hogwarts grounds, watching as a few Gryffindors played quidditch on the pitch, seemingly enjoying the snowfall as they flew. "Deadly objects isn't exactly what those runes you showed me translated to, I missed a crucial part of the last rune. It had a more holy connotation than the word 'objects' has, so I think a more proper and appropriate translation would actually be deadly relics."

"Deadly relics?" Harry whispered in thought, wondering what deadly relics could mean, even more interested in that than he had been by deadly objects. "To what could that be referring?" He said, more to himself than to Derrick, whom just shrugged his shoulders in response and turned his attention back to the quidditch pitch.

After dinner later that night, Harry met Bellatrix outside of the classroom that they used for their sessions, hopeful that she would finally be able to conjure an incorporeal Patronus. "Are you still dreaming or have you mastered clearing your mind before bed?" She questioned him first, not having spoken about it since the last time they met for his Occlumency lesson nearly a month prior.

"I haven't had a dream in weeks," Harry replied with a smile, finally free of the vicious dreams that the connection between he and Voldemort inflicted upon him. "Boring myself to sleep, regardless of how funny it sounds, really, really works."

"Well, it's a trigger, everyone has one; you just have to learn what your trigger is." Bellatrix whispered, taking a seat on one of the desks. She raised her walnut wand and pointed it Harry's head, before saying, "Legilimens."

Immediately, Harry's mind was intruded, but in a second, the memory of Hermione lecturing popped into his mind. Bellatrix tried to get around the memory, but when she did, a similar memory that bored Harry just the same popped up, preventing her from seeing any of the more personal of Harry's memories. As she watched the memory, she was hit with a thought, and a smile jumped onto her face—instead of moving onto another memory, she continued to watch the memory much longer than she normally would. The bushy haired girl lectured and lectured, talking about something that Bellatrix had learned in her second year, but just then, a red-headed boy that looked a lot like Arthur Weasley came into the memory, and she felt a change in Harry's mental state—he felt emotion for that boy. Using that to her advantage, Bellatrix was able to move past the memory and deeper into Harry's psyche, reaching memories that he wanted to stay hidden for one reason or another.

"You have to get past your emotion for that one boy, just as you have for that girl if you want to keep people from intruding into your thoughts." Bellatrix said, surprisingly respecting Harry's personal memories and pulling out of his mind before she truly saw any of them.

"Yeah," Harry replied, startled by the appearance of Ron in his memory. Bellatrix had never continued to watch a single memory before like she just had, which surprised him as that specific memory of Hermione had never gotten as far as it did for Ron to appear. "I'll work on that," He mentioned, though skeptical that he would be able to do it—while he loved Hermione with all of his heart, Ron was his first and best friend, someone who had left an indelible mark on his heart, someone who had given him something that he had always craved: a family. "So do you want to work on your Patronus?"

"No, not today," Bellatrix said, shaking her head in the negative. She reached down and grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder and making a move for the door. "I'm going to get ready for the competition." She said, quietly, before waving to him and walking out of the room.

Harry watched the door close, losing himself in thought. "She still hasn't found a memory or desire that makes her happy enough," He whispered knowingly, understanding that, while she may have had a desire to practice for the competition, her real reason for not wanting to try the Patronus Charm was because she wanted to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to be happy enough for the spell to work.

He gathered his things up and packed them back into his bag, before tossing it over his shoulder and exiting the room. When he took a step out, he immediately saw Bellatrix and Regulus together, seemingly speaking with one another, before they both paused and looked towards him. For a brief moment, Regulus stared directly at him, before looking back and forth between him and Bellatrix with a cocked eyebrow, wondering what exactly was going on. Harry paid him no mind, however, and instead just silently walked the other way down the hall in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room.

The last weekend in February was the first weekend of the sixth year dueling competition. Saturday morning would be the Slytherin House competition, while it would be the Gryffindor House in the afternoon on that same day. Then, on Sunday morning, it would be the Hufflepuff House competition, with the Ravenclaw House going later in the afternoon. Since only the house competing could watch the respective house duels, Harry stayed inside of his room while the other three houses held their tournaments, reading a dueling book to catch up on the basics, trying to prime himself for his coming duels.

When the Ravenclaw house duels were scheduled, Harry found that eight sixth year Ravenclaws had entered the competition: five boys and three girls. When the lots were drawn, Harry had to face Derrick Jordan in his first duel, and if he won that, he would have to win two more duels to move onto the semi-final round to duel against a member of another house. While it was all in good fun and had no bearing on his grades, win or lose, he wanted to really test out his abilities in the competition, and as such, he was going to try his hardest and execute his magic as best as he could.

As it turned out, his first duel against Derrick turned out to be the hardest duel of the entire house competition. It lasted nearly fifteen minutes, where as the other duels lasted only around five or ten minutes each. In the end, he somehow managed to stun Derrick, who had used his athleticism to dodge, parry, and return all of the spells that Harry threw at him previous to his stunning. During the duel, Harry had tried out many new spells, and though he missed on most of them, he was pleasantly surprised that they actually worked to satisfaction. After defeating Derrick, he moved on to duel Bertram Aubrey, who Harry had knocked unconscious with a well placed and executed Knockback Jinx, which lifted him into the final match of the Ravenclaw tournament. The match pitted Harry against Gaspard Shingleton, who had been lucky to make it that far in the first place, having stumbled into winning his two previous matches. Within five minutes, Gaspard had been easily disarmed, being entirely outmatched by Harry due to Harry's past experience fighting dark wizards in his own time.

"Congratulations, Mr. Dumbledore, good job," Professor Moonshine said in a loud voice, once all of the Ravenclaws in attendance had stopped their clapping. "The semi-finals will be in a month's time from today." With a large grin appearing on his face, Harry nodded in a mixture of both pride and understanding, and then jumped down from the platform, where he was immediately bombarded with congratulations from all of the other Ravenclaws as soon as his feet touched the ground.

"Well done yesterday," A tall boy said to Harry in the common room as he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning.

"Thank you, Edgar," Harry replied, shifting his eyes over to the wizard and slowing down his pace a bit so Edgar could catch up to him.

"You know who I am?" Edgar Bones questioned curiously as the pair walked out of the doorway together and down the halls of Hogwarts.

"Well, you are the Head Boy, aren't you?" Harry answered rhetorically with a smile, knowing exactly who Edgar Bones was, both from what he had learned during his time in Ravenclaw, as well as the knowledge that he had about the future.

"I guess I am," Edgar smiled in return, taking an immediate liking to Harry. He had a square jaw, blue eyes, and long, shaggy brown hair. He reminded Harry a lot of his future niece Susan in appearance, and even more so to his sister Amelia, whom Harry knew would one day become the respected Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Are you ready for the semi-finals?"

"I think so," Harry nodded in the affirmative, somewhat confident for his match. He knew he had a lot of work to do to truly be prepared, but he was more than willing to put in whatever time he needed. "I have a few spells up my sleeve, and I'm going to make sure that my opponent has never seen at least one of them before."

"Invented spell, eh? My sister once did that, took her a month and a half to do it, but her idea was boring—she wanted to turn a raven feather quill into an eagle feather one. Yeah, she wasn't the most interesting witch while in Hogwarts." Edgar whispered with a grin, misconstruing what Harry said. "This should be fun. Did you hear who won the Gryffindor tournament on Saturday? I was at their matches."

"Ah, well, I wasn't going to before, but now that you said that, I think I may give it a try." Harry smiled, changing his plans from what they previously were to inventing a spell. He had originally just intended to look up some powerful spells in the many tomes found within his trunk, but this plan, one that had him inventing his very own spell, was so much more interesting and intriguing. He knew that he would most likely fail miserably but he was excited for the challenge just the same and knew that it would give him an even better chance to win the competition, should he be successful. "And I thought only members of the house could be there?"

"Head Boy has its privileges, you know." Edgar replied with a laugh, tapping the golden badge that was fastened to his robes with his finger. "Sorry I haven't gotten around to talking with you, I know you were new here, but I've just been so preoccupied with school, my duties, and with my family that I never really found the time and I kind of let the prefects do it for me. Bad excuse, I know, but at least I'm honest."

"Is something wrong with your family?" Harry questioned, somewhat worriedly.

"Wrong, no, not yet at least, but my father works for the Ministry and my sister Amelia is a member of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, and during times like these, they're both very, very endangered." Edgar answered candidly, fearful of something happening to his family because of the Dark Lord and his many minions.

"I bet," Harry agreed, inwardly smiling at the mention of Amelia Bones, the future Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Office. They arrived in the hallway that would lead to most classrooms, and Harry bid Edgar goodbye and went down to the Great Hall, while Edgar headed to his first class of the day.

"Today we focus on long-term jinxes," Professor Moonshine said one afternoon, calling to order her sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. "A long-term jinx, in comparison to a short-term one, is a jinx that lasts, regardless of the caster's line of sight. A short-term jinx, of course, is immediately cancelled if the caster's attention is drawn away from that which is being jinxed. Unlike other jinxes, long-term jinxes are not amusing and only slightly irritating—they are dangerous, powerful, and quite honestly, difficult to create and dispel. Usually when people say an object or thing is cursed, they are actually talking about a long-term jinx that has been placed upon something."

The entire classroom took notes on what Moonshine was saying, clearly interested in the subject matter. "How would you use a long-term jinx, professor?" Evan Rosier questioned interestedly, not really understanding the difference between a short-term and long-term jinx.

Moonshine looked down at her desk and grabbed a paperweight, holding it up for the class to see. "Let's say this was a very special object, but you couldn't have it. Since you couldn't have it, you didn't want anyone else to have it either, so you jinx it. This jinx would hurt, maybe not physically but hurt none the less, any person that owned it, which could potentially make them lose everything they owned, or have them go destitute where they had to sell the object in order buy food, or their home burns down and they lose the object in the frenzy. No matter what, the point of the jinx is to punish anyone that actually does end up owning it, whether its one, two, three, four, five people down the line."

"So it's similar to a hex then?" Bertram Aubrey asked confusedly, still trying to distinguish the difference between a hex and a long-term jinx. To him, a long-term jinx sounded exactly like a curse or a hex, if they were as dangerous as Moonshine said they were.

"Not quite." Moonshine shook her head in the negative, recognizing that there were a few similarities between them, but overall, they were much difference. "A jinx is dangerous, but it doesn't necessarily mean that bodily harm will come to the person that experiences it, though it certainly might come to that. Think of a long-term jinx as casting excruciatingly bad luck on someone, in that whatever could go wrong, would go wrong to that person. In addition, a hex will wear off in time, while a long-term jinx can be relatively long lasting. There has even been some known to last over a century."

"How do you stop them?" Violetta Valentine, a Slytherin and future mother to Pansy Parkinson, questioned from the back of the room.

"Well, if you know the exact jinx that was cast, you can perform various anti-jinxes to undo the magic. Or if something extraordinary happens that breaks the jinx, then the effects will immediately vanish." Moonshine lectured, conveying to her students just how dangerous and impactful a long-term jinx could potentially be. "If not, the only other solution is the death of the one who cast the jinx in the first place, and even then it may not subside for a while. That's why they are so dangerous because the relative lack of options that one has to fight them."

"Do people purposely create them or do they happen unconsciously like when we were children? I remember, when I was a six, I cried when a toy was taken away from me, and it immediately melted when another girl grabbed it to play with it." Derrick inquired, giving a sheepish smile at the memory.

Moonshine smiled at that, remembering how many unconscious outbursts of magic she had a little girl—it drove her father nuts. "You know that some magic can be done unconsciously, but long-term jinxes are exclusively created on purpose, for a purpose. Many a magician, mostly all evil or scorned in some manner, have toiled their lives away creating these jinxes. However, there are those rare occasions where a very powerful and skilled wizard or witch can create a long-term jinx on impulse, without prior work on it, which can seem like unconscious use of magic but is clearly purposeful."

After his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Harry spent the rest of the day up in his trunk, researching spells and jinxes for his semi-final duel. He didn't know why, but he wanted to win this more than he had ever wanted to win anything before, except probably the House Cup during his first year at Hogwarts. He thought it might be because this was a duel, this would show him where he was as a wizard in comparison to others in his year just as his duel with Rodolphus had—this would show him if he was actually able to grow and mature enough to be able to fight Voldemort one day. If he didn't win, or at the very least have a good showing, he very much doubted that he would ever be able to fulfill his destiny as the Chosen One to defeat the Dark Lord, if that still was his destiny in this time.

As such, he sat at the center table in the library lock of his trunk, yawning as he stared down at a large book, his eyes becoming heavier and heavier with every passing second. "These books aren't really helping," he whispered to himself, closing the book in disappointment. Then, looking down at the table, he saw a clean piece of a parchment and a smile appeared on his face. Grabbing the piece of parchment and a quill that was off to the side, he readied himself to get working on what he had in mind straight away. As he stared down at the parchment for a few quiet moments, he sighed and reached over to the Remus Journal, and after dipping his quill into the black ink bottle, he wrote: _"How do you invent a spell?"_

"_Oh, I don't really know, Harry, I'm not a mathmagician."_ Black ink oozed out from the pages, before they disappeared and new letters took their place on the page._ "As such, I don't quite understand how to do it; I've never actually invented one before. However, from what I remember when your father did it, I would imagine that you would need to first develop the effects of the spell, then the focus of the spell such as the wand movements and the incantation, and then put them all together and conjure the spell. Intent is a crucial part of magic, remember."_

"_My father invented a spell?"_ Harry wrote, a tad surprised by that fact. Sirius had never mentioned inventing a spell, and if his father had done it, his own resolve to create one was enhanced immensely. He knew Hermione had invented one as well, the Dumbledore's Army parchment jinx, and he tried to think back to the time during their fifth year, wanting to remember if she had told him what she had done at any point during the school year, knowing that any little detail, no matter how innocuous it seemed, would help him in his endeavor.

"_Yes, back in Hogwarts. And if I recall, Severus Snape did it, as well."_ The journal replied, before the ink was absorbed back into the page and disappeared from view.

"_Should I write all of that down? I mean, what you told me about what it would take."_ Harry wrote in rushed cursive, wanting to make sure he understood everything Remus knew about the subject before he started. Inventing a spell was dangerous, he knew, and he wanted to be as safe as he could be. In fact, he remembered that Luna's mother even died having had a spell go awry on her, which made him feel quite disgusted and awkward that he had somewhat witnessed Xenophilius' first date with his future wife.

"_Perhaps, either way you'll need to imagine it in your mind."_ The journal flashed once more in loopy cursive, before disappearing as usual.

"_Thank you, Remus."_ Harry wrote, closing the journal and pushing it off to the side, not deterred by the dangers that were present in spell creation.

On the contrary, he was excited about it: he had never thought about inventing a spell before talking to Edgar, but for some reason, this was something that he knew he wanted to do. Without quidditch in his life, he was without the rush of competition, and while inventing a spell wasn't a competition in and of itself, he knew it would allow him to feel that thrill once more. So, with renewed energy, he imagined what he wanted to invent—something fun and helpful, but not too dangerous or harmful. His mind drifted over various ideas, not settling on a single one as the minutes passed.

He gave out a loud yawn, and a sudden burst of imagination hit him and he immediately knew what his spell would be. Now wide awake, a broad smile appeared on his face, an excitement about him that was almost palpable. "A hex that makes someone tired, groggy, and weaker magically, that way it's easier to beat them in a duel. It won't have any long-term effects on the person, nor will severely harm them in any way, it's perfect."

Too excited to stop for the night, he began to write the effects of the spell he wanted to invent down onto the piece of parchment that was in front of him. The basic purpose of the spell was that, instead of knocking someone unconscious like the Stunning Charm did, this would rather make them feel the effects of tiredness, making their spells weaker, their minds cloudier, and their bodies more lethargic. The effects would, hopefully, make a duelist much more easily overcome than they would be at their absolute peak, allowing a quicker end to the duel.

While it would be similar to the Bewitched Sleep Charm, it wouldn't actually make the victim fall asleep, instead it would just make them feel the need to go to sleep; the closer they were to feeling the need to go to sleep, the more the feeling would be amplified. In other words, if the person was wide awake, they would simply feel as if they had just run a marathon after being hit with the spell, but if their eyelids were already previously fluttering closed, they would feel the need to fall asleep right then and there. Either way, their energy would be drained and their mind would be cloudy as a result of being hit with the spell.

"It supposedly took Amelia Bones a month and a half to invent her spell, but I have no idea how long it took dad or Snape to invent theirs. Hm, I have nearly a month before the semi-finals, maybe I can do this." Harry whispered, throwing himself completely into the quest. "One week for each part, with the last week being used to test it out. If I fail, I fail, but at least I know I tried something my father did when he was in Hogwarts."

Forgetting about the lateness of the night and the fact that he had already been working for over five hours, he continued on with the creation of the spell, moving to what the spell itself would look like. He envisioned it to be a blast of orange light, like the sun, and would need to physically hit the opposing witch or wizard in order to take effect and produce the desired results. He wrote and wrote, but unfortunately, as he jotted down his ideas on the piece of parchment, his eyelids were closing ever so slowly, and before long, he was fast asleep, an ironic turn of events considering the spell he was in the process of creating.

The next night he was back to work, and he moved onto the focus of the spell, or rather, how exactly it would be conjured. He knew it would have to have a similar wand movement as the Stunning Charm due to the related nature of the two spells, so instead of developing an entirely new process, he tweaked the Stunning Charm one, using the opposite wand movements of the Stunning Charm and adding another flick of the wand at the end. He tested the movements out for a bit, wanting to make sure it was just right, going over various other wand movements before settling on the original idea. It felt right to him, though admittedly, he had no idea if it would actually work or not.

In time, he was working on the incantation, which he quickly discovered would be a problem due to his ignorance. Without any actual knowledge in how to create a spell, he knew he would need to research the subject further. He knew that most incantations were bastardizations of Latin, but he didn't know if that was because the spells themselves were so old or because that was the only way it could be done. He went from book to book, researching and studying, but he did not find any that gave him further information. However, as he moved to through the bookshelf in the trunk, he was suddenly struck with a thought: Rennervate was a spell that revived anyone hit with a Stunner, and basically translated as energize. Enervate, meanwhile, was an incantation that he had mixed Rennervate up with when he was first learning about it during his fifth year, and was immediately informed by Flitwick that the word meant the exact opposite of Rennervate, though it wasn't any a known spell.

Throwing caution into the wind, he grabbed his wand as a devilish smile appeared on his face. "Enervate!" Harry said, moving his wand in a similar fashion as he would if he were conjuring the Stunning Charm, except adding the extra flick at the end. Nothing happened on the first attempt, but when he tried again, the second time produced a great recoil from the spell and he was hit with a pink colored beam of light. Immediately, his eyes fell closed and his body slumped down in his chair, apparently asleep.

He awoke about ten hours later, and after realizing what had happened, he gave out a deep sigh, trying to figure out what was going wrong. Shaking his head, he made his way out of his trunk and back up to his room, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, still thinking about his spell. Recklessly deciding to do it again, he did the proper wand movements and then said, "Enervate!" Like before, there was a massive recoil and he was once more hit with a pink light, and immediately, he collapsed to the floor, asleep.

"Are you all right?" Xenophilius Lovegood said as he bent down and shook Harry awake an hour or so later. He had come into the room, and upon seeing Harry unconscious on the floor, immediately rushed over to him, wanting to make sure he was okay.

"What…?" Harry questioned groggily, opening his eyes to meet the concerned gaze of Xenophilius.

"Are you okay? You were passed out on the floor." Xenophilius informed him, helping Harry to his feet and making sure he was able to stand on his own. "I think you missed your classes."

"Not again," Harry shook his head in a mix of anger and disappointment. Then, realizing that Xenophilius was probably worried, said, "Yeah, I'm fine, just a spell, that's all. Thank you." _What am I doing wrong_, he questioned himself, wondering why he was being spelled asleep every time he attempted the spell.

It was Friday night and a week before the semi-final round that found Harry working in his trunk once more. "Enervate," He said again, and like before, the spell recoiled against him, forcing him into sleep. After midday the next day, Harry awoke from his spell-induced slumber, his mind hazy on what had happened. He got up from his chair and walked over to the ladder, stifling a yawn as he climbed up and peeked his head out of the trunk, looking to see if anyone was watching: no one was. Quickly, he jumped out of the trunk and closed the top, not wanting anyone to know what was inside.

He took a shower and got ready for the day, knowing that the other boys in his dorm were down in Hogsmeade. He didn't feel like going, and while he needed to stock up on his candy and butterbeer, he figured he could wait until the next Hogsmeade weekend, which was in two weeks. After he was ready for the day, he went down into the kitchens to get a bite to eat, where the elves were happy to serve him a delicious lunch. With his belly full, he walked back up to his room, his mind occupied entirely by his spell. All throughout the rest of the day, he continued to work on his spell. Every time he decided to test it, however, it would always recoil against him, forcing him to take hour long naps even when he wasn't the least bit tired previously.

It was late one night that found him sitting in front of a piece of parchment, the mechanics of his spell scrawled down on the parchment, a step by step thesis on the endeavor that he had begun nearly a month prior. He had yet to perfect it, and he was quickly losing him that he would be able to before his semi-final duel. As he dipped his quill into the bottle of ink off to the side, the tiny bottle fell over on its side, spilling ink across the table. "Merlin," Harry growled in disdain, not bothering to clean the ink off of the table. He angrily climbed up the ladder and went to bed, too disgusted to think about the spell again that night.

"How's that new spell coming along?" Edgar Bones questioned as Harry stepped into the common room after finishing all of his classes the next day.

"Not well, not well at all." Harry answered honestly, taking a seat across from Edgar in one of the plush blue chairs. "It keeps backfiring on me. I probably wasted my time on it, but oh well."

Edgar silently nodded as his stomach rumbled in hunger; he knew that spells took time to perfect and it was common to fail many times before finally finding success. "Well, how about after dinner, I take a look at what you have so far, see if I can help. I'm not my sister, but…"

"That would be great," Harry agreed, not really expecting much to change, regardless of his knowledge that Edgar was a wizard of considerable skill. He remembered how glowingly Hagrid had spoken of the man back when he first learned of his wizarding heritage, a fond memory of the day at Diagon Alley when he was introduced to the wondrous world of magic.

After dinner, Harry and Edgar walked into Harry's room, all the while laughing at a joke that Edgar had made just moments prior. Settling down, Harry grabbed the work that he had accomplished and handed it over to Edgar, who took a seat on the windowsill and started to read through everything. "The Sleepy Charm?" Edgar smiled at the name, looking over to Harry. "If it's any consolation, it sounds pretty cool at least."

"So should I take it as a coincidence that we didn't talk all that much before, but now I see you everyday basically?" Harry questioned as he watched Edgar read, wanting to know why the boy had taken such a keen interest in him all of the sudden.

"I handed over leadership to one of the clubs that I led after I got back from Christmas break." Edgar replied with a shrug, not looking up. He stayed silent for a moment, before he flipped the piece of parchment over and said, "I have more free time now."

Harry cocked an intrigued eyebrow, wondering why he would give up all that he had worked for over the course of his Hogwarts career. "Why did you drop it?"

"It would have had to been done eventually, might as well get it out of the way." Edgar replied, keeping his gaze firmly on the parchment, seemingly in deep concentration. "The movements are the opposite of the Stunning Charm with an extra flick." He recited slowly, reading what Harry had jotted down on the small piece of parchment. "What if you reverse that?"

"You mean with the flick at the beginning of the sequence? I've tried that, same result." Harry responded, shaking his head in the negative.

"No, I meant by having the same exact movements as the Stunning Charm, just with an extra flick." Edgar corrected, knowing that the laws of magic were based around the movement of energy, and realizing that the wand movements that Harry had been trying did not allow the flow of energy to leave his wand and body adequately enough, hence the recoil. The magical energy that the spell created was not being channeled through the wand properly, and instead, was stagnating halfway through the process.

"Hm," Harry whispered, not having tried that before. Believing that it was a good idea, Harry stood up and tried it out, using the same wand movements as the Stunning Charm but adding the extra flick at the end. "Enervate!" He yelled, watching as a sphere of light encircled his wand before releasing outwardly in a beam of orange energy. It struck the bathroom door, but left no lasting results, unlike many other spells that would often leave scorch marks or dents. He had no idea if the charm would have the effects he desired, but he was absolutely thrilled that it wasn't backfiring on him and making him fall asleep like it had been before.

"Want to try it?" Edgar questioned, willing to give it a shot. He stood up and faced Harry, apparently wanting him to try it out right then and there.

"Sure, use it on me, though." Harry answered, not willing to risk any adverse effects happening to Edgar. After all, he had no idea if the spell would peel the flesh off of his bones or create boils on his face that would never recede instead of doing what it was supposed to do; two potential fates that he wanted to prevent Edgar from experiencing if worse came to worst.

"Enervate, right?" Edgar said clearly, wanting to make sure it was the proper verbiage. Seeing Harry's nod, he gripped his wand, performed the appropriate movements and called out, "Enervate!"

Harry was hit with the orange light, but unfortunately, nothing happened. "It didn't work," Harry grumbled, disappointed in himself and his failure. _I still have a lot to learn, I guess_, he thought to himself, frowning nearly unnoticeably.

"Give it time," Edgar said in a chipper voice, seeing the potential in the spell. Just having an energy ball shoot out like that was great work, he knew, though he doubted Harry would want to hear about that accomplishment in and of itself. "I'm sure you'll figure out what the problem is. The best spells in the world took time to perfect."

"At least it didn't backfire this time. Yeah, maybe you're right," Harry sighed, but gave the wizard a small smile, seeing the progress that was made. Before long, he bid Edgar goodnight and went to sleep early, knowing that he would have to hit the books hard to catch up on all the training time he had lost by trying to invent the spell. However, he knew he could do it, and with renewed confidence, he climbed into his bed and went to sleep, images of duelers occupying his dreams.

A/N: I had to change the chapter order up, this chapter was supposed to happen eventually, but not this soon. That's why there wasn't a lot of Bellatrix, nor dueling, as this chapter was supposed to come later on in the story when Bellatrix and Harry weren't speaking to one another for a while.


	16. The Four Champions

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Another update will be coming to Power of the Past really soon, so be on the look out for that.

S/N 2: The first chapter after this Dueling Tournament arc is the one with lots of Harry and Bellatrix, so be ready for it. Review and tell me who you think is going to win the tournament!

Chapter 16: The Four Champions

The days passed, and soon enough, a prepared Harry was walking down towards the Great Hall for his semi-final duel when he saw his father and Sirius rushing through a hallway on the fifth floor. He didn't know where the pair was going, but by the looks of it, they were on one of their many excursions as they were quietly whispering to one another while looking over their shoulders, making sure they weren't being followed. Harry watched them for a few hallways, until they turned down the opposite way he was going, forcing him to give up the pursuit. Undeterred and hopping down the stairs, he arrived on the first floor and in front of the Great Hall, before walking into the room that was filled with sixth and seventh years.

"Welcome one, welcome all," Professor Regula Moonshine said in a loud voice, walking along the wooden platform that was in the center of the room. It was about ten feet wide and forty feet long, more than enough space for the duelers to easily move around. "I would like to say thank you for coming to the sixth year dueling competition, which allows you all to see how much knowledge you have acquired here at Hogwarts over the past five and a half years. Because of these dark times, I personally persuaded the Headmaster to allow this small competition to take place, and I am pleased to see that it was a smashing success, which I hope has taught you all like I expected it would. Now, before I announce the four participants in our semi-final round, I would also like to take this time to tell you all that next year we will be having house dueling clubs, with the representatives from each house in this semi-final round being the leaders of that club, if they so choose. If they decline, and I expect a few of them will do so, we will name a new club captain at the beginning of the next school year. The clubs will allow you all to grow and expand your knowledge, all the while teaching you the necessary skills to escape danger in these dark times."

She paused, and looked out at the students, a bright smile on her face. "So, without any further delay, will the four semi-finalists each step up onto the platform." She yelled, looking out at the group that encircled the platform expectantly.

"Excuse me, excuse me," Harry said as he snaked his way through the mob, before jumping up onto the platform and joining another boy that was wearing Hufflepuff robes. Two other people jumped up onto the platform behind him, and when Harry turned to see who they were, he was unsurprised that one of them was Bellatrix Black. Bellatrix raised an eyebrow up at him, but otherwise stayed silent, seemingly concentrating on the duel that was before her.

"And here they are—the four house champions!" Regula screamed, earning a round of applause from their classmates and the seventh years that were in attendance. "Representing Hufflepuff is Otto Bagman!" Regula gestured to the Hufflepuff boy, who bowed deeply to the crowd. "Representing Ravenclaw is Harry Dumbledore!" Harry shyly waved and smiled, not really knowing what to do. "Gryffindor's representative is Frank Longbottom!" Frank grinned as his friends began to hoot, making many of the sixth years laugh. "And finally, the one female of our contest and representing Slytherin, Bellatrix Black!" While all houses clapped, the other three houses besides the Slytherins were less enthusiastic with Bellatrix as they were with the other representatives.

"Let's give one more round of applause for our four champions!" Regula said, clapping her hands together in order to garner more applause from the other students. "Now, just like during your quarter-final fights, there are rules: you cannot intentionally try to severely injure your opponent, you must stop the duel if I tell you to stop, and this should go without saying, you must abide by the laws of the Ministry of Magic, as well as the rules and regulations of the European Magical Dueling Commission. To that end, if you step off of the platform in your duel or touch the floor in any way, you forfeit your match. If you stay down for longer than thirty seconds, whether unconscious or otherwise unable or unwilling to get up, you forfeit the match. And finally, if you are disarmed by your opponent, and cannot get to your wand before your opponent makes you give, you forfeit your match. Are there any questions?"

"Can you start the duels now?" An impatient voice in the crowd yelled, earning a bout of laughter from most in attendance.

With a large grin on her face, Regula looked over to the duelers. "Good, now if two of you could come over here and reach into this bag, we can pair up who will duel who in the semi-final round." Regula ordered, pulling a black velvet bag out from her inner robes. "I have written your names on a piece of parchment, which are all folded up and placed inside here. Whosever name you draw, as long as it is not your own, is who you will be dueling, with the winners of the two duels moving onto the final round." Harry and Bellatrix reached their hands in and picked out a crumpled piece of parchment. Harry looked down at his and saw the name Otto Bagman written, and he looked up to Otto, who was staring back at him, apparently already knowing that they were going to be dueling.

Meanwhile, the teachers at their long table at the back of the Great Hall watched with interest as the dueling pairs were being decided. "Without giving into the favoritism of our respective houses, who do you all reckon is going to win?" Professor Slughorn questioned the rest of the teachers, all of whom were sitting around him on both sides. He had a feel for all of the champions, but he wanted to know a bit more before he asked one of them into the Slug Club.

"Well, it's hard to tell, but these four are certainly the best of the best of their year." Minerva McGonagall replied knowingly, having taught three of them for nearly six years. "While I don't know much about the Dumbledore boy's past, he's shown a noticeable skill when it comes to Transfiguration so far."

"He has some skill in Charms, as well." Flitwick agreed, nodding his head vigorously, appreciating the dedication that Harry showed. "Even so, Longbottom seems to be the best out of all of them, though I'm sure Ms. Black has some clever tricks up her sleeve."

"That is interesting, interesting." Slughorn shook his head, the fat under his chin jiggling all the while. "What say you, Pythia?" He questioned the Divination Professor, wanting her educated take on the duelers.

"They are all deserving of being in the semi-finals," The seer replied, not giving them any hint of whom she thought would win.

"And now, to start the semi-final round off with a bang, we pit Otto Bagman of Hufflepuff against Harry Dumbledore of Ravenclaw!" Regula called out, allowing Bellatrix and Frank to jump off of the platform and take their places in the crowd.

Harry centered himself on the platform, across from Otto, who looked nervously back at him. As he fondled with his wand, waiting for the duel to start, he moved his gaze over to his dorm mates, who smiled up to him and wished him luck in an effort to show their support. With a deep sigh, his eyes roamed over everyone else, and he noticed that in the first row of students, there were a few seventh years scattered about, who were charged with erecting shields whenever a spell ricocheted out from the duel in order to protect the students behind them. Edgar Bones was on the floor on the other side of the table, and gave a slight nod of his head and a smile, which Harry appreciated immensely.

"Duelers bow," Regula ordered, as Harry gripped his wand and tilted his body downwards. "At the ready, and one, two, three, duel!" Regula erupted, before jumping down onto the floor and watching the duel from below along with the students.

"Stupefy!" Otto Bagman called out, thrusting his wand out at Harry in a clumsy fashion.

_Protego Dirigible_, Harry thought to himself, holding his wand out in front of chest. The stunner bounced off of the shield that Harry conjured, and was thrown back towards Otto, who was caught off guard and was forced to frantically jump out of the way in order to avoid being hit. Seeing an opening in his opponent's defenses, Harry quickly conjured the Disarming Charm, but it was deflected away by a Shield Charm that Otto had conjured in response.

Harry stared at Otto as the boy caught his breath, gathering his plan for the duel. He didn't want to use any of his better magic just yet, instead wanting to save that for the final round. "Though, I might not make it to the final round to use the magic if I don't use it now," Harry whispered with a small grin, wanting to win this duel more than anything.

Otto again started the back and forth of spells, with Harry being on the defensive side throughout the exchange. He wanted to see if he could spot a hole in Otto's defense, and possibly use that to his advantage. He had learned to be patient in the various duels that he had at the Ministry the summer before, knowing that it was dangerous to go into a fight unprepared and uneducated about your opponent. As such, he waited, learning about Otto before returning the attack. Finally, after dodging a few more spells from Otto, Harry knew what he had to do: it seemed that Otto wasn't as proficient at nonverbal spells as he was, meaning if he could just hit Otto with a Silencing Charm, he could perhaps win the match.

Seeing his chance, he said, "Silencio!" Pointing his wand at Otto's face, there was a blast of light and Otto went silent. Otto opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to summon a spell that just wouldn't come. Finally, he managed to send out a stunner, but since he was unable to say the spell out loud and he didn't have the skill to be able to do it properly nonverbally, the spell disintegrated halfway between himself and Harry. _Incarcerous_, Harry thought to himself, his brows furrowed as thick chords tightly wrapped themselves around Otto's legs. _Expelliarmus_, Harry silently said in his mind, and watched as Otto's wand went sliding out of his hand and fell to the ground. _Accio,_ Harry again thought to himself, summoning Otto's wand off of the platform and into his hands, ending the duel just as Otto toppled onto the platform.

"And there it is; our first match!" Regula called out, jumping back onto the platform and releasing Otto's bindings with a simple flick of her wand "The winner is Harry Dumbledore of Ravenclaw!" There was a round of applause, even from the Hufflepuffs and some of the Slytherins. "Congratulations, Harry," Regula said in a quieter voice, giving Harry a small smile. Harry grinned and walked over to Otto to congratulate him on a good match once the boy was back to his feet.

"In our second and final match of the day, Gryffindor's Frank Longbottom is up against Slytherin's Bellatrix Black in what should be a great duel." Regula said, positioned at the edge of the podium. Harry and Otto both cleared the platform, standing on the ground around ten feet away from the wooden perch, along with the other members of their respective houses.

Harry looked between Bellatrix and Frank, not really knowing who would win the duel. He knew that Bellatrix was a very powerful witch, both from his experience with her in this time and the knowledge that he possessed of the future—after all, Voldemort chose her to teach his most powerful dark arts, not other Death Eaters. However, he had to admit, a part of him hoped that Frank would win, knowing the man's potential future at the hands of Bellatrix and her husband, a future that he would work his hardest to prevent when the time came. With that in mind, he watched interestedly, knowing that, regardless of outcome, it would be an entertaining duel.

"Duelers face each other and bow," Regula said, watching as Frank gave Bellatrix a deep bow, and Bellatrix replied with a quick dip of her head. "Now, duelers at the ready!" Both opponents raised their wand in the air, their eyes directly on the person across from them. "One, two, three, duel!" Regula yelled, jumping down off of the platform to referee from the ground.

Immediately, a red light shot out from Bellatrix's wand, sailing straight towards Frank's chest. Frank dodged the stunner, and sent a navy blue blast of light at Bellatrix, knocking her back a few feet, but otherwise not doing anything. Quickly, Bellatrix summoned a spell that Harry did not know, and cursed loudly when it was blocked by a shield from Frank. Frank returned with a Leg Locking Spell, but it was easily dodged by Bellatrix, who was very spry on her feet. They both dueled with nonverbal spells, showing a proficiency in the art that not many had at their age, a skill that Harry had as well, though perhaps not nearly as advanced.

From his spot on the floor, Harry watched with apt attention as the pair fought rather evenly and wondered for a brief moment how good of a fight Frank had put up against Bellatrix when she attacked him after Voldemort's first defeat. Was he only beaten due to the Death Eaters' numbers being greater than he and his wife, or did Bellatrix manage to get better than he did after Hogwarts? He assumed that she did get better under Voldemort's tutelage, though he didn't know that for a fact. Shaking his head, he continued to watch the duel, wondering who was going to win.

Suddenly, Bellatrix sent out a beast of a spell, which was so powerful that Harry could feel the heat from his position on the ground nearly ten feet away. With a lopsided grin, as if he was enjoying it, Frank flicked his wand and called out a spell, and with great effort, Bellatrix's spell was thrown back her way, where she had to put up a shield to protect herself from harm. Frank quickly followed it with a stunner, which Belaltrix easily flicked away with a simple gesture, apparently neither dueler tired from the excessive use of magic just yet.

Spell after spell, jinx after jinx, curse after curse they sent at each other, both barely dodging or blocking with a shield charm. Spells that not many in the hall knew were being used, and for a moment in the middle of the duel, Harry briefly gulped, not knowing how he would do against the winner. However, he was eager for the challenge none the less, anticipating a good match regardless of who his opponent would be. Finally, it was nearly twenty minutes into the duel when Bellatrix was thrown off of the platform and onto the floor, forfeiting the match as per the rules that were explained by Regula.

"And we have a winner!" Regula yelled, jumping back up onto the platform. "Gryffindor's Frank Longbottom wins!" Most of the houses cheered, with many of the Slytherins booing, displeased that one of their own lost the match. Harry looked over to Bellatrix, who was getting back to her feet, a large scowl on her face; though it didn't look as if she was mad at Frank but more at herself for losing. "Come back next Saturday and watch the final match between Harry Dumbledore of Ravenclaw and Frank Longbottom of Gryffindor. It should be a great one."

"Well done, yeah." Frank said in a deep northern accent as he walked over to Harry, the pair having never really spoken to one another before then.

Harry raised an eyebrow, noticing the resemblance to Neville's voice that Frank's voice had. "You too," Harry grinned, patting Frank on the back, honestly impressed by Frank's skill and power. While he didn't think Frank was a better wizard than he was, he knew that whoever won the duel in the final round would have won it through a hard fought fight, which was something that excited him. "It should be fun next week."

On Monday morning, Harry walked into his Defense classroom, and headed for his desk at the head of the class. "Think you'll win?" He heard Bellatrix question as he passed by her desk on the way to his.

"I don't know; he's quite a wizard." Harry said with a shrug, placing his bag down on the floor next to his chair and staring over to her.

"What do you expect, he's a pureblood." Bellatrix replied, not looking up from her book.

"Or he just paid attention to his teachers," Harry murmured, taking his seat and turning his attention to the blackboard at the head of the class.

"Whatever," Bellatrix said, clearly still ticked off by her loss the day prior. Harry smiled, drew his attention away from the board and looked over to her before Professor Moonshine called the class to order, amused that she was so angry over the match's outcome. Noticing his gaze, she stared right back at him, raising a silent eyebrow. "You better beat him," She finally said, just as Moonshine stood up and began her lecture.

The days passed quickly, all the while Harry didn't think about his new spell, deciding instead to better use his time to study some spells that may come in handy for the final duel. As he waited for Professor Flitwick to show up at his Charms class, he flipped through his charms book, perusing some of the many charms that were within the tome, hoping to find one that he could use. Noticing a small piece of parchment hanging out from the back of the book, he pulled it out and read the small note that was scrawled on it. It was a page number, so he quickly flipped through the book until he reached the page. "I forgot about this," Harry muttered, remembering when he had seen the charm on the page back at the beginning of the school year. He briefly read the charm, intent on trying it later, before turning his attention to Flitwick, who had just walked into the classroom.

A/N: Check chapter 7 to see what charm it was that Harry was looking at. And I figured you all would like Bellatrix getting beat by Frank.

The etymology of the spells in this chapter.

**Protego Dirigible:** the Dirigible Shield Charm (from chapter 2), it comes from Protego, Latin for "I protect," and Dirigible, English meaning able to be steered. It basically allows a more concentrated shield around your wand.


	17. The Final Round

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The Bellatrix and Harry interaction will start picking up after this chapter. They'll become closer next chapter when a revelation gets made to Harry that changes things a lot. Can you guess what the revelation will be?

S/N 2: I still haven't settled on a characterization of Edgar just yet—I don't know if he's going to be a powerful dueler or just a very skilled wizard. I don't know if he's going to be like a brother for Harry or just a close friend. Review and let me know what direction you think I should go.

Chapter 17: The Final Round

"Have you been practicing?" Edgar Bones questioned Harry as the pair walked into the common room after dinner three nights before the final round was to take place.

"Yeah," Harry nodded in the affirmative, giving his friend a sideways glance. "I've been in the library a lot."

"You have?" Edgar inquired, confusedly, wondering how he had missed that. "I haven't seen you leave your room all this time."

"Oh," Harry gave a snort of laughter, seeing the truth to Edgar's statement. They walked up the stairway until the reached Harry's room, and a curious expression came upon Harry's face. Harry looked at Edgar, seemingly deciding something, before saying, "Can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on what you're going to tell me," Edgar replied honestly, knowing that there were some things that he couldn't and wouldn't keep to himself. He was becoming very good friends with Harry, with the younger wizard quickly becoming someone that Edgar would fight a battle for, but his morals and upbringing would always come out on top when it came to keeping secrets.

Silently, Harry walked over to his trunk and unlocked the library lock, before throwing open the lid and revealing the hidden room. "Follow me. Close the top before coming down." He said, stepping into the trunk and climbing down the wooden ladder.

"What the…?" Edgar gasped with his eyes wide, quickly rushing over to the trunk. Seeing that there was a ladder that connected to what seemed to be a room, he was amazed. "Well, I'll be."

Following Harry's lead, he stepped into the trunk and began climbing down the ladder. Before he was halfway, however, he stretched up and pulled the lid of the trunk closed, preventing anyone from seeing into the trunk. Upon reaching the bottom, his gaze moved around the room: it was a library, complete with bookshelves, carpeting, and a small table with multiple chairs. The shelves were lined with books, magical devices, and other items from floor to ceiling, showing a profound collection that would make most scholars of the magical community jealous.

"Welcome," Harry said, broadly gesturing to the room with his hands.

"This is amazing!" Edgar gasped, walking over to one of the shelves and pulling a book off of it. "I've never seen anything like this before." He said, looking down at the title of the tome before placing it back from whence it came.

"Really? I thought they would be fairly common." Harry shrugged, having never known the trunk was rare. "A dear, dear friend of mine gave it to me before I came to Hogwarts."

"I've seen trunks that have stone chambers or bare rooms, but never one this detailed." Edgar informed Harry, shaking his head, still amazed at the library. "So you've been studying here, huh?" He questioned, taking another book off of the shelf and reading its title: Dark Lords of the Dark Ages.

"Pretty much," Harry agreed, taking a seat at the table. He kicked out the other seat from the table, allowing Edgar to sit across from him. "I've learned quite a few spells from these books, I'll tell you that much."

"Welcome, welcome," Regula Moonshine yelled, standing up on the platform on the Saturday of the final round of the dueling tournament. "Welcome to the championship match of our sixth year dueling tournament. Today, we have a great contest between Frank Longbottom of Gryffindor," She called out, pointing to the young wizard on one end of the platform. When Frank's name was announced, there was an immediate flood of cheers from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, some courteous clapping from the Ravenclaw House, while the Slytherins that were there were silent, apparently not amused by Frank's appearance in the finals. "And now for his opponent, Ravenclaw's champion, Harry Dumbledore!" Without hesitation, the Ravenclaws burst out into chants, yelling for Harry to win. "The rules are the just the same as the semi-final round, with a disarming and inability to fetch your wand counting as a forfeit, and touching the floor outside of the platform or unconsciousness each counting as a loss."

"I think Harry is going to win this, the skill that he had in nonverbal spells last weekend really impressed me." Slughorn said at the teacher's table, watching the introductions with a merry smile on his fat face.

"Yes," McGonagall nodded in agreement, though her face showed slight skepticism. "Dumbledore possessed a great natural skill in nonverbal magic before we even began to teach the sixth years such skills. However, Frank Longbottom has a natural skill for it as well, and in fact, might be just a bit better at it than even Dumbledore."

In the center of the dueling platform, Harry's gaze moved around the room, before they fell upon Edgar, who winked and wished him luck with a tilt of his head. Off to the side, in the back of the hall, he saw Bellatrix leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, disinterestedly watching him. He couldn't help at smile at that picture, knowing very well she wanted him to win, though she would never admit just how much she wanted him to win for his own satisfaction and not just for her revenge against Frank. "Duelers bow," Regula said finally, her voice cutting through the hall, earning Harry's attention as he and Frank bowed deeply and respectively to each other. "At the ready, one, two, three, duel!"

Unlike last time, where the duelists would attack one another immediately, both Frank and Harry stared at each other, trying to find a weakness in the other's stance. They studied each other for close to a minute, before Frank twirled his wand and released a jinx at Harry. The jinx clanged off of Harry's dirigible shield, and after spinning around to gather momentum, Harry sent the jinx flying back at Frank, whose eyes widened in surprise at the action. Frank ducked out of the way rather easily, and returned another jinx Harry's way.

Harry threw his wand out from his chest, and with a burst of yellow light, a jinx left his wandtip, and collided with Frank's jinx in midair. The two jinxes bounced off of each other, and were sent flying backwards at their caster, who were each forced to dodge out of the way. Rolling on the platform, Harry quickly cast a stunner at Frank, who jumped out of the way just in time, and then sent a Leg-Locking Curse at Harry's downed form. Harry flipped backwards onto his feet, somehow keeping his balance, though he had almost lost his wand in the process. The curse clanged off of the platform, missing Harry wildly.

Just as Harry began to cast another spell at Frank, the platform began to shake as if an earth quake had begun. At first, it was a few soft shakes, but eventually, the shaking grew so violent that Harry fell to the ground, unable to get back to his feet. He held on to the platform as tightly as he could, trying to keep himself from being flung off onto the floor. As he was holding on, his gaze moved over to Frank, whom was concentrating on the platform, performing the very spell that made the platform tremble in the first place. "Finite Incantatum!" Harry yelled out with as much force as he could, knowing that he would have to overpower Frank's magic in order to pause the quake. Sure enough, a few moments later, the platform stopped trembling, and Frank looked over to Harry, a mix of excitement and concern in his eyes.

As Harry got back to his feet, he realized that he needed to do something spectacular in order to win, that he needed to really pull out all of the magic he knew, reach into the deepest excesses of his mind in order to come out triumphant. So, with that in mind, he twisted and twirled his wand, and then yelled out, "Glacium!"

Instantly, the wood platform around Frank turned into ice, preventing him from running without slipping. Knowing that this was an opportunity he couldn't miss, Harry conjured the Disarming Charm and sent it towards Frank, following that up with a stunner, and immediately after that, a Body Binding Curse. As the spells zoomed at Frank, the wizard twisted his wand in midair, and an orange flame took shape around him, melting the ice into small puddles, allowing him to dodge without anything making him slip. The trio of spells flew over his head, missing him by a few feet. Then, jetting his wand outwards, the flames shot towards Harry, turning an icy blue color as it shaped itself into an arrow. The blue flame arrow nailed Harry's shield, fizzling into nothing, though Harry was left thoroughly impressed with Frank's skill.

"Darn it," Harry whispered to himself, thinking of another plan. He had no idea how good of a wizard that Frank was before this, but now that he saw the boy's caliber, he was struggling to figure out how exactly to beat him. "Protego Dirigible," Harry suddenly said, seeing as a spell came zooming towards him.

The spell clanged off of Harry's shield, but it hit with such great force that Harry was pushed backwards to the edge of the platform. Seeing an opportunity, Frank quickly bombarded Harry with spells, curses, and jinxes, trying to knock the wizard off of the platform. Swiftly, Harry blocked and dodged, making his way further and further towards Frank's position and away from the edge with each spell that Frank sent. Finally, Frank stopped his attack, seeing the futility, pausing to take a break, his breath heavy.

_What can I do_, Harry questioned to himself, studying the situation. He was tired from having to move around and defended himself from the attack, and he didn't know how much more he could last. He tried coming up with a plan, but his mind continued to draw blanks. Then, he saw Frank move to the left, and he noticed the small puddles that had accumulated around the boy. _I got it_, he thought to himself with a wry grin, hoping that it would work.

"Aqua Erecto!" Harry called, twisting his wand towards the small puddles that pooled around the other side of the platform. Instantly, the puddles grew and grew, until they formed into a large snake-like beast made completely of water that situated itself in between Frank and Harry. Frank stared at the beast with wide eyes, clearly taken aback by what Harry had done, but then something changed; it was as if he was excited to take up the challenge.

"This…this is not sixth year magic." Professor McGonagall said from the teacher's table, watching as the water grew into the beast. She was astonished by the performance that both Harry and Frank were putting on, something that she didn't think student in the school could do, let alone six years.

Next to her, Professor Flitwick nodded his head, very impressed by the pair's skill at dueling and their mastery of the concepts of magic that they had learned up until that point. "These two are special." He whispered, critiquing each dueler's form and taking notes from the duel. _No, not like that_, he thought to himself, knowing that Frank's choice of attack wouldn't work.

Frank sent a spell towards Harry, but it was quickly intercepted by the water snake, which took the spell into its body and harmlessly dispersed it. Frank tried again and again, but no matter what he did, all of his spells were taken in by the snake, apparently not powerful enough to destroy it. Confidently, Harry smiled, knowing that the water snake was doing exactly as he expected it: blocking all of the spells that Frank was sending. Thinking of the spell he would use to defeat Frank, he sent the jinx towards the man, and lowered his guard for a moment as he watched his jinx fly.

"Penetrare!" Frank's voice suddenly came from the other side of the beast, and for a split second, a large hole opened up in the beast's body. Before Harry could react, before he could summon the Shield Charm, a red light flew through the hole and raced towards Harry's chest. Knowing there was nothing he could do, he watched as the stunner hit him square in the chest and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

When Harry awoke, Frank Longbottom was kneeling next him, a large smile on his face. "That was great," Frank said, helping Harry to his feet, as cheers and applause came from everyone inside of the Great Hall.

"And the winner is Frank Longbottom of Gryffindor!" Regula Moonshine yelled out, as another round of applause and cheers erupted. "But let's hear it for both of our competitors; they did a job well done."

A disappointed Harry made his way out of the Great Hall along with many other Ravenclaws, all of whom were talking animatedly about the duel they had just witnessed. _I still have to get better_, Harry thought to himself, _no, I will get better_. "Shall we go to the kitchens?" A voice from behind him stirred him out of his thoughts, and he turned around and smiled at the sight of Xenophilius, Greta, and Edgar. With a silent nod, the foursome walked down to the kitchens, intent on celebrating Harry's performance.

It was three weeks into March that Harry met up with Bellatrix once more to work on her Patronus. She was late again, though Harry didn't mind, having brought along one of Dumbledore's books to read. He had made good progress on the items that Dumbledore had left to him, and he had every intention on finishing his research up by the start of his seventh year. "Hey there," He said when Bellatrix took a step into the room, closing his book and placing it on the desk he was occupying.

"Sorry," Bellatrix said distractedly, shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts so she could concentrate on the lesson. "Rodolphus was expelled an hour or so before we were supposed to meet up, that's why I wasn't here on time." Bellatrix whispered, looking over to Harry, trying to gauge whether he knew about it or not. "He had his wand snapped and all."

Harry blinked at the information, and then tried to hide his grin, but failed at the endeavor as a broad smile illuminated his face. "Oh, really, whatever for?" He questioned in barely contained excitement, wanting to know what Rodolphus had ended up to doing to get kicked out of Hogwarts.

"Apparently for hexing some Hufflepuff, Mary Tremlett I think her name was," Bellatrix answered, noticing Harry's smile, though paying it no mind. "Dumbledore must have been watching him something fierce because from what I hear, he barely even cast the spell before his wand was ripped from his hands."

"Good riddance," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders, not really caring that a future Death Eater had gotten his wand snapped. If a good man like Hagrid could be expelled and have his own wand snapped, he couldn't muster any feelings for a wizard like Rodolphus Lestrange being expelled. Then, realizing he said that out loud, he looked over to Bellatrix. "Sorry?"

"Its fine," She replied, shrugging her shoulders, as well. "I don't really care. It's his problem, not mine. If he wants to embarrass himself, then more freedom to him, I say."

Harry raised an eyebrow, perplexed by what she had said. "Do you not like him or something?" He inquired, inwardly wondering how these two had ever gotten married in his own time.

"I don't like anybody," Bellatrix replied, turning her back to Harry and reaching into her bag to grab her wand.

Harry grinned at that, recognizing the joke—he could tell it in her voice. "So what are the wand movements for a Patronus?"

"A soft twitch, followed by a swish, and finished with an outwards thrust." Bellatrix drawlingly recited, bored by the subject. The wand movements weren't her problem, as she already figured out that her problems were focused entirely in the mental state needed to conjure a Patronus, though she would never admit that to anyone else.

"Very good," Harry nodded in agreement, having memorized those exact movements long ago. He had only asked her the relatively simple question in an effort to enhance her confidence on the matter, knowing firsthand that having confidence in your ability to summon a Patronus helped in actually summoning one from the time that he had seen his future self summon the stag Patronus that saved him from the horde of dementors during his third year.

"Can I start now?" Bellatrix questioned, cocking an amused eyebrow.

"Remember," He said to her, slowly stressing every word. "You have to be happy, think about your happy thoughts and then transfer those thoughts into your Patronus. It doesn't even need to be corporeal; it can be a silver mist or shield, as long as something comes out. You can work on summoning a corporeal one later."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and sighed, trying to ease the tension that failure caused her. She didn't how much longer she could continue to fail without success; it was staring to wear on her, and sooner or later she would give up her pursuit of a Patronus. Remembering everything that Harry told her, she kept her eyes closed as a small smile appeared on her face. "Expecto Patronum!" She exclaimed, doing the proper wand movements and thinking about her happiest memory. Unlike the countless other times that she tried, this time a silver mist sprang out from her wand, looking a lot like dust in the air, lingered for a moment, and then disappeared into nothingness.

"You're almost there!" Harry excitedly exclaimed, seeing the brief mist that had jetted from her wand. "Try again!"

Once more, Bellatrix closed her eyes, feeling at ease for the first time since beginning the process months prior. After a few deep, relaxing breaths, she suddenly exclaimed, "Expecto Patronum!" Immediately, a small silver mist erupted outwards, condensing into a luminescent shield, before evaporating into nothing as if never having existed.

"You did it," Harry nodded from his spot on a desk, smiling from ear to ear, proud of her accomplishment. "Obviously, the memory you used wasn't sufficiently powerful, but it still made you feel just enough happiness to conjure a Patronus, albeit an incredibly weak one. It's a great start, for sure."

"You really know how to charm a girl, you know that?" Bellatrix snapped, clearly disappointed in herself. She quickly spun on her heels, gathered her things and then haphazardly threw her wand into her bag

"Just like you calling me a failure, right?" Harry muttered, grabbing his book and jumping up from his desk. He didn't mean to offend her, and he should have probably worded what he said better, but regardless of that, he didn't expect such a reaction.

Bellatrix paused a few feet from the door, and slipped her hand into her bag. "Legilimens!" Bellatrix suddenly called out, pointing her wand at the back of Harry's head. Immediately, she was bombarded with images of Harry's life, before, with great effort from the wizard, the images changed into visions of a bushy-haired girl that was lecturing two boys, one of them including Harry.

"I've been working on it," Harry said, turning back around to face Bellatrix as she let up on the legilimency spell.

"You still need to conquer your feelings," Bellatrix ordered, though still somewhat impressed with his advancement. "If I delved deeper into your mind and saw another person close to you, I'm not sure that you would be able to force me out as easily."

"Thanks," Harry nodded, agreeing with her that he still had a lot of work ahead of him in order to truly be a decently accomplished Occlumens. Though, admittedly, he had no false hope that he would be anything but someone who knew about Occlumency. "And in case you ever do get caught feeling the effects of a real dementor, eat some chocolate, it'll chipper you right up." He said, sensing the finality of what she had said—this would be the last time they met up to teach each other.

"I guess this is it, then." Bellatrix said, walking nearer to the door. She looked over to Harry, her violet eyes meeting his green ones, trying to figure out what to say. "It's been…good." She settled, and with that, she walked away, leaving Harry alone in the room, somewhat confused.

"I guess I won't be seeing your corporeal Patronus," Harry muttered to himself, shaking his head. He stayed there for a moment, going over what just happened, before he too exited the room, heading towards the Ravenclaw common room.

A/N: I couldn't have Harry win the dueling competition, that's just not my style. He did get a new friend, though, in Frank, so you may be seeing him a little more in the story.

A/N 2: Etymology of spells that I created in this chapter, which first appeared in Chapter 39 of Harry Potter and the Power of the Past.

**Glacium-** Turns the floor in a specified area into ice. It comes from the English words "glacier" and "gum," which usually sticks to the floor and then your shoe.

**Aqua Erecto-** The Raising Waters Charm, it creates more water from a small source, and gives it pseudo-life to do the caster's bidding. It is the water version of Fiendfyre. It comes from the Latin word for "Water," and the English word "Erect," for standing up. It is different than the similarly named "Aqua Eructo," being much more advanced.

**Penetrare-** Penetrates a magically created barrier, whether created by the Shield Charm or by other spells/curses. It comes from the Italian word "Penetrare," meaning to penetrate, to enter, or to pass through.


	18. Learning

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: As promised, some more Bellatrix and Harry interaction. Like I've been saying, Bellatrix is listed as a main character because she is going to become a main character, but don't have any expectations, because it might turn out very different than you imagine it will.

S/N 2: Frank is going to continue to linger, but he won't be playing a serious part. In addition, while Xenophilius will certainly be around, Edgar has slightly stepped into his spot as a secondary character, with Bellatrix taking the spot of Greta.

Chapter 18: Learning…

"_There was a dueling tournament,"_ Harry wrote in Remus' journal as he sat in bed one night, unable to sleep. He was tired and it was late, but even still, no matter how many times he tossed and turned, he just couldn't fall asleep.

"_How did you do?"_ Black ink scrawled back in handwriting Harry had come to know as Remus'.

"_I lost in the final round."_ Harry replied in his own loopy cursive, not caring how big his letters were as they always disappeared back into the page. _"I was beaten by a spell that I should have probably been able to stop." _

"_I'm sorry to hear that, did you have fun at least_?" Remus questioned, wondering if Harry enjoyed himself or not. He hoped that Harry was having at least some fun in this new time, instead of just being stressed and working on his magic.

"_Yes, but…"_ Harry wrote, tapping the end of his quill against his forehead, unable to think of how to continue that sentence. He didn't know exactly how he was feeling at that moment, as he was overcome by a cruel mix of disappointment, confusion, and happiness.

"_But what?"_ Remus prodded, hoping that Harry would open up a little more. By creating the journal, Remus wanted to be there for Harry in ways no one else would be—to be his confidant, the one he entrusted with his most precious secrets.

"_I lost because I got cocky; I didn't think my opponent would know a spell that he ended up actually knowing."_ Harry wrote, being honest with himself and admitting his own mistake. _"I got overconfident, arrogant even, just like my father and Sirius used to do."_

"_You're not like Sirius, Harry. You writing what you just wrote proves that, trust me. Even after all those years in Azkaban, Sirius never once learned to not gloat, and, in the end, sadly, it got him killed."_ Remus wrote, and though Harry didn't know how they did it, the black inked letters themselves told of Remus' sadness at his friend's loss. _"You being able to admit what you admitted shows that you are not like him in that regard, but you are exactly like your father. Remember, he too learned from his mistakes, which led to him finally being able to be loved by your mother."_

"_What if that happens to me?"_ Harry questioned, eager for Remus to give him some advice on the matter. He had never been so overcome with confidence before, not even when he was on a broom, and he was wondering why it happened this time.

"_Don't let it."_ Remus replied, ending the conversation. _"Who did you duel, anyway?"_

Harry bit his lip, taking what Remus said to heart. _Don't let it_, he thought to himself with a nod, remembering those exact words. Then, after dipping his quill in the bottle of ink, he wrote, _"Frank Longbottom."_

"_No wonder, Frank Longbottom was a very good wizard. He was right up there with the best of them in the Order of the Phoenix."_ Remus wrote back instantly, as if he recalled various spectacular deeds that Frank had accomplished during his lifetime. _"There was a reason why Voldemort offered him numerous chances to join the Death Eaters, you know. Just like your father."_

It was the Saturday before Easter Break that found Harry sitting in the Three Broomsticks along with Edgar Bones, enjoying a hot butterbeer that warmed them both up inside. They were talking aimlessly about something, just enjoying their day off and the Hogsmeade weekend. "Hello boys," Professor Flitwick said, coming over to their table—he was barely tall enough to be seen. "Mind if Frank and I join you?" He questioned, gesturing over to Frank Longbottom, who had just risen from his table that he shared with Alice Prince and traversed the pub on his way over to Harry's table.

"Sure," Harry agreed, wondering what was up. Admittedly, he had never had much contact with Flitwick outside of class, in this time or his own, but he knew the wizard was exceptionally skilled and one of the most powerful professors in all of Hogwarts.

"I just wanted to discuss something with you, the two champions of the sixth year dueling competition." Flitwick smiled, taking the seat next to Harry, while Frank took the seat across from him, next to Edgar.

"Should I leave then?" Edgar asked awkwardly, not wanting to stay if he was unwelcome.

"Nonsense," Flitwick shook his head in the negative, wanting Edgar to be there with the rest of them. "Let me order you all a drink, my treat." He said, stopping the bar maiden as she passed the table. "Yes, can we have one of whatever it is that they are having and one lime soda with cherry syrup for me, please? Thank you, Rosmerta."

"Thank you, Professor," Frank said, giving Flitwick a small, timid smile, a bit confused by what the professor wanted to discuss with him. He was quiet, which most people confused for shy, but he didn't like speaking unnecessarily, instead only talking when he had something to speak about.

"Anytime," Flitwick nodded, waiting for the drinks to return before he got started with what he wanted to say. They made idle chat for a few moments, until they all went quiet as Rosmerta delivered them their drinks. "As you may or may not know, I am, and I admit this quite humbly of course, an established dueler in the European Dueling League. I watched you both duel, and needless to say, I was very impressed by your use of nonverbal magic, as well as the use of spells and charms that we have never taught you, and honestly, you will not learn in the everyday curriculum of Hogwarts."

"Yeah, that water snake was really inspiring," Frank agreed vigorously, having been impressed by Harry's magic.

"Well, that Penetrate Charm that you did, I didn't think you would know," Harry admitted, shrugging his shoulders with a smile. It wasn't common magic, and Frank knowing it, truly surprised him tremendously.

"That's the only reason why I won," Frank nodded, knowing exactly what Harry meant. "I saw you drop your guard and conjured the spell."

"I wanted to discuss with you some things that I saw during your duel, as well as some things that I believe will help you not only become a better duelist, but also better wizards." Flitwick said, before pausing for a sip of his drink. "First, I saw a very defensive form from you, Mr. Longbottom, even when you should have been on the offensive. While I know that a good defense is the best offense, you must remember that the same could be said on the other side, as well: that a good offense is the best defense—you need to find a happy medium between both aspects of dueling."

"My father always taught me to be safe, rather than sorry." Frank acknowledged, knowing that the reason he was like that was because his parents had taught him a particular way to use his magic. "Death Eaters attacked our home during the summer, and he wanted to make sure I was prepared for any type of fight. Fought a few of them myself, I did. Granddad Harf even gave me a new broom because of it."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at what Frank said, realizing that many of these people had had experience with the Death Eaters themselves. While he had cloistered himself away from Voldemort for the time being, instead focusing on bettering himself for the inevitable, the fact that an entire war was going on outside of the safety of Hogwarts had not escaped his mind.

"That is certainly true, but sometimes being too safe puts you in even more danger than you would be if you were just a tad reckless." He said, while Frank nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his butterbeer as he thought about what Flitwick had said. "Oh, and give my regards to Harfang, will you?" He asked Frank, referencing the boy's grandfather, Harfang Longbottom.

"Will do," Frank smiled, knowing that he would indeed tell his grandfather hello from the professor the next time he saw him.

"And you, Mr. Dumbledore," Flitwick started, turning his gaze over to Harry. "You need to remember that just because the Dirigible Shield is more powerful, it doesn't mean that you can forget the regular Shield Charm altogether. You could have easily summoned a shield in enough time to block the stunner that Mr. Longbottom sent at you to defeat you, but it seems that your mastery of the Dirigible made you forget the regular charm. Remember, even the most basics of magic have their uses; you just have to be cognizant of those times. And, like Mr. Longbottom just mentioned, never, ever drop your guard, even if you think you have the duel won."

"Thank you, sir," Harry whispered, dropping his head a little. _Would he have been as cocky as he was by dropping his guard if it was Voldemort that he was fighting? _He knew that if he did, he would die unceremoniously.

The next day, Harry was sitting up in the library, studying for his Easter exam in transfiguration. Xenophilius was next to him, writing on a long piece of parchment, entrenched in his work. "No, I can't believe I forgot the pictures!" Xenophilius suddenly exclaimed, quickly throwing his parchment, quill, and ink bottle into his rucksack. "I have to go get the pictures for Professor Moonshine, its due in an hour!"

"What is?" Harry questioned, but before he could get an answer, Xenophilius was gone. Shaking his head in confusion, he returned to his studying, trying to learn the basics of animation in anticipation of his exam. He made a few marks in his book next to some interesting comments, knowing that he would return to that page to reread them later on.

As he flipped the page of his book, he looked over to the window when he heard an owl tapping at the glass, and then watched as a girl with long black hair walked over to the window and took the letter that the owl had fastened to its leg. She turned around, and Harry cocked an eyebrow as he saw it was Bellatrix Black. He had not seen her for a few weeks, and he had to admit, in her prime she was astonishingly beautiful, breath taking really with her sharp features, her violet eyes, and her raven colored hair. His eyes went wide when he realized what he was saying: this was Bellatrix Lestrange, the future murderer of his godfather. Was…was he attracted to her? Was it just his teenage hormones playing a trick on him or something, or was it more than that? And if wasn't just his hormones, did it betray the memory of Sirius? Did it betray his own disdain for what he knew she would become in the near future?

As he shook his head to clear away those thoughts, he watched her as she opened up the letter, and noticed that as her gaze moved down the parchment, a large smile appeared on her face. She looked up from the parchment and around the library, as if she was scanning the room for someone with whom to share her news. Finding Harry, she quickly grabbed her bag, moved over to his table and took a seat. "My sister's getting married."

"You have a sister?" He questioned, pretending to be ignorant of the Black family. He knew very well that she had two of them, though he couldn't admit that to anyone but Dumbledore, especially not to her. He had seen the Black family tree first hand two summers before, as he was cleaning out number 12 Grimmauld Place along with Sirius for the Order of the Phoenix to use as a base of operations.

"Two…well, yeah, I have a sister." Bellatrix answered, correcting herself after a moment's thought, scowling slightly at the mention of having two sisters.

"Two?" Harry asked, raising an intrigued eyebrow, wondering how Bellatrix would answer the question.

Bellatrix looked down at her book, before flicking her eyes over to Harry. "One of them was disowned for marrying a muggleborn a couple of years back. I haven't really seen or spoken to her since."

_Andromeda Tonks, Tonks' mother_, Harry thought to himself, knowing exactly who she was referencing, though he had never met the woman himself. "What about your other sister?"

"Cissy, she's marrying a pureblood named Lucius Malfoy." Bellatrix cooed with an excitement to her voice that he had never heard from her before. "Come summertime, she'll be Narcissa Malfoy."

"Congratulations," Harry drawled, trying to hide his disdain at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy. Outside of Voldemort and Bellatrix herself, Lucius Malfoy was one of Harry's most hated people in the world, not finding a single positive characteristic in the man.

"My parents are so happy." Bellatrix whispered, not noticing Harry's countenance, seemingly lost in her own little world. "They didn't appreciate Dromeda's choice in a husband and have kind of been waiting for Narcissa to make them proud. I would have had a third sister too, well, not really…you see, my parents were going to have a daughter before my oldest sister was born, but my mother had a miscarriage. The mediwizard screwed up or something, I don't know, they don't talk about it much and I've never really asked."

Harry blinked for a moment, having not expected the sudden change of subject. "I'm sorry to hear that," Harry replied in an honest tone, knowing how awful having a child die would be. No parent deserved that kind of pain, regardless of their purity beliefs.

"Ironically they planned on naming her Bellatrix. I'm sure my name would have been something different if that had happened, probably Elladora or Callidora or Asterope or something Greek sounding." Bellatrix laughed, referencing her family's naming habits, a tradition that she doubted would ever end. After all, she knew that even her disowned sister Andromeda named her daughter, and by proxy her niece, Nymphadora, a name that any young girl would loath.

"I can't imagine you with another name," Harry whispered, biting his lip, not really knowing what else to say. "It would be like a hippogriff being called a dishrag. It just wouldn't fit."

"Neither can I," Bellatrix replied, giving him a small smirk. "Though, we both know that a dishrag smells a bit better than a hippogriff."

Harry gave a smile at that, reading the next paragraph of his book. As he tried to read, however, he found himself unable to concentrate due to the nagging questions that had infested his thoughts, all of which dealt with Bellatrix. "Can I ask you something without you ranting and raving at me?" Harry questioned, tilting his head and staring straight at Bellatrix with a serious gaze.

Not looking up from her book, she tentatively nodded, and then said, "I guess so."

"Why do you hate muggleborns?" Harry asked bluntly, wanting to know what support she had for her feelings and creed, if any at all. He had never had the opportunity before to figure out why exactly the Death Eaters hated certain people or beings, or even if there was a reason outside of blind hatred, fear, and ignorance, and he wouldn't let this chance pass. "I mean, in some ways, I can understand muggles, but muggleborns? It doesn't make any sense to me; neither do, but I can overlook it for muggles for this question alone."

"Like my father always says, there are only a certain number of jobs in the wizarding world. If wizards and witches live until they are one hundred and twenty, and the jobs are flooded with muggles, where does that leave us in one hundred years? Even the most beautiful of rose bushes need to be pruned every once in a while." Bellatrix answered coolly, seemingly unperturbed by Harry's inquisition.

Harry noticed that she said 'her father always says,' which in his opinion just showed how indoctrinated the Blacks were from an early age, proof positive that it was in both the Blacks' nature and nurture to dislike muggles and muggleborns—how Sirius and Andromeda managed to break away from the discriminatory mindset was seemingly a miracle. Even still, what she had said made some rational sense, making him wonder why she would one day become so fanatical about it when she originally had such a 'greater good' purpose. _Then again_, he thought to himself, _Gellert Grindelwald also thought he was doing everything for the greater good, and his actions were unquestionably evil. _He would never, ever agree with what she said, but he could see the argument that she was making—it wasn't a good argument in his opinion, but still, he could see it.

"Perhaps we shouldn't talk about things like this, since we obviously disagree on it." Bellatrix muttered, looking back down at the book after glancing up to Harry.

Harry agreed, and went silent for a few moments, trying to think of something else to discuss. "Why do you want to talk to me now? The last time we saw each other, you couldn't get away from me quickly enough." Harry gave a small smile, wanting to show his question was in jest.

"That had nothing to do with you," Bellatrix whispered in response, dipping her quill in the bottle of black ink and jotting down something on a piece of parchment. Her tone wasn't condescending, nor did it convey a sense that Harry should mind his business, instead it was as if she was telling him, literally, that it wasn't him that made her not want to speak.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but knew that was the best answer he was going to get. "So what does your father do?" He asked, hoping to take the conversation a different direction, perhaps learn more about her family. If her father was worried about job security, surely he worked at a position that wasn't as skilled as other careers were in the wizarding world, where your skills gave you a little more protection from unemployment or the danger of it made the profession undesirable enough.

"Nothing much anymore," Bellatrix admitted, giving him a slight shrug of her shoulders. "He pretty much lives off of my family's landholdings. However, he did work as a mathmagician when I was younger, but I was too young to remember that, though. I've gone without want or need my entire life, so I guess he's okay doing whatever it is that he does."

"Mathmagician?" He questioned, remembering that word from when he had spoken to the Remus journal about creating a spell a month and half prior.

"It's a fancy name for a type of an arithmancer that writes about the likelihood of a magical possibility through the use of numbers." Bellatrix answered nonchalantly, as if it was something everyone knew about. "You know, whether a spell to create such or such of an effect is possible magically speaking, and how likely the creation of said spell is."

"I've never heard of that before, well, except for that one time a while ago." Harry replied, thinking back to the conversation with Remus before he started trying to invent the Sleepy Charm. "When I was trying to create a spell, someone told me that they weren't a mathmagician, so they couldn't really help me."

"What was the spell?" Bellatrix inquired, cocking a black eyebrow, intrigued by Harry's spell creation ability.

"You would think it's stupid." Harry said in a somewhat embarrassed tone, believing that she would just mock him or make fun of the spell.

"Try me." Bellatrix replied, putting down her quill and looking up from her book, giving him her full attention. She stared at Harry, her violet eyes meeting his own green ones, anticipating Harry's answer.

"It's called the Sleepy Charm," Harry started slowly, wanting to make sure she heard every word. "It makes a person feel tired and lethargic, making their mind foggy and their magic weak. The harder they fight back, the more tired they become, allowing you to easily overcome them."

"Clever," Bellatrix smiled, admitting the genius of the spell. "Should have used it against Longbottom, maybe then you wouldn't have blown a duel that you had won."

"Maybe," Harry smiled, not telling her that it wasn't entirely finished just yet. Maybe one day he would finish it, he hoped he would, but at that point in time, he didn't know when that day would be and he was okay with that, instead deciding to focus on magic that he could learn from others, rather than invent himself.

"It's getting late." Bellatrix sighed, realizing the time as she closed her book up and got to her feet.

"Yeah," Harry said, gathering his things up into his bag, as well. "Tell your sister congratulations." He whispered, knowing that the Malfoy union would produce a spoiled brat named Draco, who would one day grow up to be a miserable, egotistical teenager that terrorized those poorer and supposedly less pure than his family.

The rest of the weekend ended quickly, and on Tuesday of the week, Harry took his transfiguration exam. Fortunately, like the two before it, he was successful in all that Professor McGonagall had told him to perform, animating the various objects that were laid out for him with flawless precision. Even he was impressed with the advancement in transfiguration that he had made over the year, and he knew that Hermione would have been proud of him for performing so well. He didn't know if it was the promise that he had had made to himself during the summer to disregard everything else in order to better himself for the fight against Voldemort or if he was genuinely interested in becoming a better wizard that was fueling his desire to continue to learn, but regardless of the reason, he didn't want it to stop. He had forsaken everything that he would usually do at Hogwarts for the cause; to stop now would be a waste of all that time and effort. And, with the year coming to a fast close, he knew he had a lot of work still ahead of him.

A/N: I hope you liked the interaction between Harry and Bellatrix. She'll start opening up to him more, eventually. The name Asterope is a nymph and a star, so it works with the Black's naming conventions. It is also one of Bellatrix's favorite names in this story. In addition, I mentioned Callidora during that scene because I had previously mentioned Harfang Longbottom, her husband. Otherwise it would have only been Elladora or Asterope.


	19. Summer in Room 23

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I apologize for not answering every review that I have received, I do not read them as quickly as I used to. I'll try better next time.

S/N 2: This school year was all about Lily for Harry, next school year will be all about James and Sirius, so if you're wondering why I haven't focused on them as much, that's why.

Chapter 19: Summer in Room 23

Before long, it was nearing the end of the term, just a few weeks off until the students of Hogwarts would disperse for the summer. It was a nice spring day that found Harry sitting outside at the edge of the lake reading a book about defensive spells from the Dark Ages, along with Edgar, Greta and her boyfriend Milton Curd, Xenophilius, and a few other Ravenclaws. "So what are you doing after you leave Hogwarts, Edgar?" Milton questioned the seventh year, wondering what plans the Head Boy had in terms of his career prospects.

"Me?" Edgar started awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands a bit. "I've decided to take a year or two off and fly around, doing various things. I don't quite know what I want to do with my life just yet." He finished, knowing that he wasn't able to tell them his real plans: at the request of Dumbledore, he had decided to work for the Order of the Phoenix fulltime until the threat of Voldemort was vanquished, dedicating his considerable skills and abilities to the cause for the time being.

Harry distractedly stared off at the lake, not really paying any attention to the conversation or the book that was opened in lap, his mind free from thought as he enjoyed the day. Just then, the doors of the school opened and most of the fifth years came bustling out, discussing things loudly, having finished their O.W.L.s exams. Harry looked over, and after a few moments, watched as his father came strolling out, flanked by Sirius and Remus, with Peter following closely behind them all.

He watched as the foursome walked over to a large tree and took a seat, each on different sides, with James taking a snitch out from his pocket and beginning to play with it in front of him. Behind one of the bushes near the tree, Harry saw Severus Snape spying on his father and his friends, and Harry suddenly recognized when this was: the memory in Snape's office. "Oh no," He whispered as a look of anxiety came over his face, and he quickly got to his feet.

"What is it?" Greta questioned worriedly, wondering what made Harry jump up like that.

"I have a bad feeling, that's all." He answered, watching as Sirius elbowed James and pointed to the snooping Snape. "If this is what I think it is, it will not end well."

Sure enough, after five minutes, Snape was hanging upside down in the air, his dirtied and grayed underpants showing to the rest of the students, whom were all laughing at Snape's expense. Harry stood off to the side, watching what was happening, before his gaze moved over to his mother, who was rushing up to his father, looking angry. "Leave him ALONE!" She said as Harry moved closer to the exchange, wanting to see and experience it firsthand. There was some muffled conversation, before Harry found a spot that he could both see and hear the conversation, intent on seeing Snape's worst memory with his own eyes. "Leave him alone!" Lily shouted, holding her wand out towards James, who eyed it warily, apparently knowing and respecting how powerful of a witch Lily was.

"Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you," James replied earnestly, truly not wanting to hex her. While she was good, he was better than she was and they both knew that, making his threat even more potent.

"Take the curse off him, then." Lily sneered in response, not trying to hide her disgust for the wizard.

James sighed deeply, seemingly debating whether to do it or not in his own mind, and then turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse. "There you go; you're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus." He said as Snape struggled to his feet again, a look of pure disgust in his eyes.

Snape's gaze zoomed onto James, and Harry thought he looked angrier than he had ever been before and Harry knew what was about to come. "I don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her!" He growled, completely consumed by the rage that he felt for James.

"Fine," Lily blinked, taking what Snape had to say coolly. "I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

"Apologize to Evans!" James suddenly roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at the sallow faced teenager as he was overcome with righteous anger over what Snape had said.

"I don't want you to make him apologize," Lily shouted, but Harry's attention was drawn away from the exchange and over to the doors of Hogwarts, from which a few older Slytherins, including Bellatrix, were marching out. They looked over to the group that was circled around Snape and James, and headed towards it, all taking their wands out, seemingly intent on coming to Snape's aid. "You make me sick!" Harry heard his mother say, before she turned on her heel and hurried away.

"Evans!" James called after her, hoping to apologize once more. "Hey Evans!" He called again, but when she didn't turn back, he looked over to Sirius. Before he could rush after her, he too noticed the Slytherins marching at him, forcing him to regroup with Remus and Sirius in order to fight them off.

Harry contemplated what he should do for a second: he could see that a duel was about to erupt between the Gryffindor boys and the Slytherins that were coming towards them, but he really wanted to go talk to his mother, to see if she was okay. Making up his mind, he ran around the group, past Bellatrix and the rest of the Slytherins that were going after James and Sirius, and rushed up to Lily, who had just entered the castle.

"Lily!" Harry called out, trying to catch up to her.

"I don't want anything to do with you, Potter!" She yelled, stopping on the spot and turning around to face who she thought was James.

"Potter?" Harry questioned as he stopped jogging a few feet in front of her, inwardly hoping that she didn't know his secret.

Lily blushed at her mistake, frowning slightly. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry, for a second there your voice sounded just like James Potter's." She said, apologetically, hoping that she didn't offend him by yelling.

"Oh," Harry pretended to laugh, realizing that his voice probably did sound a lot like James'. "Funny that." They turned and started to walk up the stairs silently, and Harry used this time to think about what to say. "Are you okay? I saw what happened, but when I got there, you were already talking to Potter."

"I'm fine, just…never mind, it's okay." Lily said, biting her lip to silence herself.

"No, no, what is it?" Harry prodded, wanting to know her feelings on the matter. He had been patiently waiting for this day all school year, and he wasn't going to let the opportunity to get closer to his mother slip away from him.

"My feelings are hurt, not because of what was said but rather because of who said it." Lily admitted, reaching the landing at the top of the stairs and walking slowly down the hallway. "I've been good friends with Severus since we were small children, but he treated me like some rag that he could throw away."

"I hate that word, and after what you did for him, pitiful." Harry sighed, walking along with her. "You're friends with him then?" He questioned, having finally found the time to ask her that: he remembered way back in the beginning of the year when he stopped himself from blurting out that question in fear that it would detract from his chances of becoming friends with her.

"What?" Lily said, furrowing her brows, fighting back the tears that were coming. "Oh, yes, Severus and I grew up in the same town."

"Oh yeah?" Harry questioned, thoroughly surprised by that fact, having never expected it—he thought that Snape would have grown up far away from muggles. He didn't let it stop him, however, and instead, he used what she said to his advantage. He thought that if he could start some small conversation with her, maybe, just maybe she would open up to him and tell him more about herself. "What town was that?"

"Widow's Mill-upon-Medway," Lily replied, suddenly missing her parents and sister deeply. "It's on the outskirts of Cokeworth in Kent." She added upon seeing Harry's clueless face.

"I've never heard of it." Harry shrugged, truly never having heard of the town. "I'm sorry about Severus, though. Friends shouldn't do that to one another, no matter how angry they are."

"He's a good person, I know it, but the way he acts around those Slytherins is making me start to think twice about it." She whispered, and Harry briefly wondered if she was talking to him or to herself. "The ideas that they have, their supposed sense of humor, is evil. Mulciber and Avery are just the worst."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you have to wait until people are done maturing to really judge what kind of people they are. I bet in a few years, even James Potter won't act like the toerag he is." Harry said, knowing that his father would shape up eventually and become a better man.

Lily snorted at that, a small smile appearing on her face, enjoying Harry's positivity. "Maybe," She said softly as they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, which hid the Gryffindor common room. "Well, I should get to my room, I'll see you later?"

"Sure," Harry nodded in understanding, trying to hide the smile that was coming to his face at his mother's attempt to hide where the Gryffindor common room entrance was. "I hope you feel better."

"I will, thanks Harry." Lily grinned, watching as Harry walked down the hall and away from the portrait. When he was out of sight, she said the password and headed into the common room, intent on spending the rest of the day in her bed and under the covers.

"Evans!" A voice shouted as James ran up the stairway just as Harry began walking up to the Ravenclaw common room.

"I wouldn't go after her just yet," Harry said, stepping in front of James to block his path for a few moments.

"Why not?" James questioned somewhat forcefully, wanting nothing more than to talk to Lily, to apologize to her for what Snape had said. He hated that word 'mudblood', he didn't understand it: his blood was as pure as anyone could claim to be, being the son of Charlus and Dorea Potter, an heir to the ancient Potter line that bore lineage from both Ignotus Peverell and Bowman Wright, and even with that rich pedigree, he didn't care whether someone was pure, half, muggleborn or muggle at all, everyone was equal to him.

"She's upset about something. Let her solve that issue before you bombard her with apologies. Trust me," Harry pleaded, wanting what was best for his father.

"Maybe," James replied, sidestepping Harry and continuing on in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. "Have a good summer, Dumbledore." He called out before Harry was out of earshot, making Harry give a large smile in response.

It was the last class of the year that found Harry sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, as Professor Moonshine tried her best to prepare material for the day's lecture. "Well, a deal is a deal," Professor Moonshine started, smiling over at Xenophilius. "Today we will be studying both nargles and heliopaths."

"Ugh," A united groan came from nearly all of the students.

"Now, now," Moonshine grinned, wanting it to be a fun and enjoyable final class of the year. "I made a promise to teach about them if Mr. Lovegood was able to prove to me that they existed by the deadline, and without any extra time to spare, he was able to hand me an essay and numerous photographs in support of his allegations."

"Did the photographs actually show anything?" A Slytherin asked in a mocking tone, as his friends sniggered around him. He was familiar with Xenophilius' tendency to put forth pictures that didn't show anything as proof of his beliefs, and he doubted this time was any different than all of the previous ones.

"Not in so far as definitive proof, but the photos did show…something." Moonshine replied slowly, not wanting to offend Xenophilius, though she was clearly just as disbelieving as everyone else on the matter.

"I took many of them myself!" Xenophilius chirped proudly, seemingly being unaware of the subtext of the conversation or just plain ignoring it. With that, Moonshine tentatively began her lecture, allowing Xenophilius to add whatever input he had, all the while keeping it fun and loose so everyone could enjoy themselves.

A week later was the last day of the school year, and all of the students were returning home for their summer holiday. In the afternoon, Harry walked into the Great Hall for lunch along with his Ravenclaw friends, and after a quick bite, he was getting up from the long house table just as Bellatrix was getting up from the Slytherin table. Seeing her in the corner of his eye, he turned and started to say his goodbyes to his friends as they made their way out of Hogwarts.

"See you soon, yeah?" Edgar questioned him, raising an eyebrow. The pair had already made plans to meet up in one week, just after Edgar got back from holiday with his family.

"Soon, yeah," Harry nodded with a grin, knowing that they would be seeing a lot of each other over the coming months. "You know where I'll be."

"Bye Harry!" Greta cooed, engulfing him in a big hug. "Make sure you keep in touch."

"I will, Greta." Harry replied in a happy tone, planning on writing her frequently during the summer. He enjoyed her company, and while nothing ever did come about after their date earlier in the school year, he hoped they could be friends for a very long time.

"Watch out for the aquavirius maggots." Xenophilius warned, putting on a pair of glasses that hid half of his face.

"Will do," Harry sighed as a smile played on his lips, watching as the trio walked away and gathered with the rest of the Ravenclaws that were making their way to the carriages. When he turned around to head off on his own, he saw that Bellatrix was just done talking to her Slytherin friends and was making her way out, as well. He quietly waited for her by the door for a moment until she caught up to him, wanting to say goodbye to the witch. "Have a good summer," He said to her, appreciating what she did for him by way of helping him learn Occlumency.

"So are you staying here for the summer?" Bellatrix questioned, as they slowly walked down the hall towards the main door of Hogwarts, which led to the path that would bring the carriages to the Hogsmeade station

"No." Harry answered, shaking his head in the negative. He realized that they were walking the opposite way that he needed to go, but he didn't mind for some reason, though he didn't know exactly why.

"Oh, I just thought…you know, with your great-uncle, that you would." Bellatrix said, awkwardly, not really knowing if he was close to his great-uncle or not. Admittedly, she didn't really know much about him, other than what she could gather from their relatively shallow conversations, but she knew that she hadn't exactly made it easy for him to open up so she couldn't fault him too much.

"No," Harry replied, understanding how she would think that—it was a reasonable idea. In fact, he had been offered to stay at Hogwarts, but he declined the suggestion, knowing that he needed to find his own way for once. "I'm staying at the Leaky Cauldron for the time being, and after that, I'm not sure."

"Staying at the Leaky Cauldron? That sounds just awful." Bellatrix smiled, showing that she was joking. _The Leaky Cauldron_, she thought to herself, storing that information in the back of her mind.

"It could be worse," Harry grinned, agreeing with her that it wasn't the most splendid of living places. It was either the Leaky Cauldron, the Three Broomsticks, or an inn at the far end of Knockturn Alley called the Smoking Vile—which Harry didn't know whether was a play on the word vial, a homonym of vile, or if the owner legitimately thought vile was vial—so his choices were relatively limited.

"Are you taking the Hogwarts Express?" Bellatrix questioned in a tone that Harry didn't recognize.

"No," Harry shook his head again, answering her question in the negative. "I'm going on the Knight Bus. I figured it would be more fun."

"Oh," Bellatrix replied, looking down at the ground, not meeting Harry's gaze. "Then I guess I'll see you when school starts up in the fall?"

"Count on it," Harry nodded in agreement, knowing that they would see each other again after the summer came to a close. "Bye Bellatrix."

"Goodbye, Harry." Bellatrix whispered, walking off down the path that led to the carriages. Harry, meanwhile, headed back into Hogwarts and up to the Headmaster's office, where he knew the older wizard was waiting for him.

Sure enough, Dumbledore was already waiting for him with the stairway up and the door open when he arrived. "Professor?" Harry inquired, knocking on the opened door, not wanting to intrude.

"Come in, come in, Harry," Dumbledore smiled from behind his desk, gesturing for Harry to come forward, granting him access to his office.

"Hello sir," Harry grinned back, taking a seat in one of the chairs that were situated across from Dumbledore's desk. "I just wanted to say goodbye, I'm going to go into Hogsmeade and catch the Knight Bus in a few minutes."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here for the summer?" Dumbledore questioned the younger wizard, looking over at him through his half-moon spectacles.

"I need to do this," Harry said, knowing and believing that it was the truth. Dumbledore wouldn't be there for him all of the time after Hogwarts, and because of that, he needed to learn to care for himself, to start his life after school.

"I understand," Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling it what seemed to be pride. "If you could make an old man happy, though, I would like you to keep in touch throughout the summer, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Harry replied, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door. "Thank you for everything you did for me this past year, Professor, it really meant a lot to me. Without you, this would have been so much more difficult…impossible, even." He said, giving a thankful smile to the older wizard.

"Anytime, my boy." Dumbledore responded easily, watching as Harry made a move to leave.

Harry reached for the door, but paused before he opened it, thinking about something. He turned and looked at Dumbledore, who was staring back at him with a raised eyebrow, curious by what was on the young wizard's mind. "Sir, I'm torn about something. I don't know if by me pursuing something, I'm betraying all that I hold dear." Harry started, and after seeing Dumbledore signal for him to continue, he added, "It's just that, I don't know if my feelings on something go against what I know about it, the situation I mean. And I'm worried that me having these feelings makes me a bad person, a disloyal person."

"Remember, Harry, until these people cross that line and perform that acts that you remember them to have performed, they have not crossed that line and should not be thought of as the people who did cross the line in your time. They are different, so whatever you wish to pursue, I don't think you should berate yourself for betraying anything. Either way, regardless of your decision, know that you are not a bad person." Dumbledore lectured, once again telling Harry to give everyone a chance until they have proven themselves one way or another. Then, with a bright smile, he added in a bright tone, "Personally, I am not one to fight serendipity. Or happenstance, whichever term you may prefer."

Harry stared at Dumbledore, slightly confused by what the older wizard had said. "But I thought you said you can walk away from prophecies, that destiny isn't written?"

"Destiny and good fortune are two very different things, Harry." Dumbledore replied knowingly, trying to impart to Harry that sometimes things happen for no other reason than just plain luck. "When it comes to what you are alluding, that is more powerful than prophecy or destiny can ever hope to be."

"Ah, okay, thank you, sir." Harry sighed, trying to understand how exactly he felt.

"Good luck with your Ms. Black problem." Dumbledore grinned as Harry closed the door and disappeared down the stairwell, presumably to catch his bus.

Harry walked down the path that would lead to the main gates, his trunk shrunken in his left pocket and his wand in his right. The gates lurched open as he neared them, granting him access to the outside world. Walking through the gates, he continued to walk a hundred yards or so until he reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade—to his right was the Forbidden Forest, which loomed as dark and foreboding as ever. He stopped at a small opening in the road, and then he grabbed his wand from his pocket and threw his hand outwards, as if he was calling a muggle taxi. It took nearly five minutes, but eventually, there was a loud bang and a purple triple decker bus appeared on the small road.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, sir," A young female chirped, taking a step out and opening the door for Harry to enter. "No bags I see, very well. Where will it be today?"

"Just Diagon Alley, thanks." Harry answered simply, not wanting to go anywhere else but the Leaky Cauldron.

"Would you like a refreshment for the ride?" The female questioned, gesturing to a small shelf that held various snacks for the passengers to enjoy, all of which looked old and unappetizing. "We have bottles of pumpkin juice for five sickles."

"No, thank you." Harry shook his head, not really hungry at the moment. "And you can take your time getting me to Diagon Alley. I'm in no rush."

"Very well, sir." The female nodded politely, taking a few steps over as to let Harry pass. "I shall collect the fee before you depart." Then, after making sure Harry was seated and walking back up the front, she yelled, "Let's roll, Ernie."

There was a tremendous bang, and immediately, Harry found himself thrown back in his seat. He looked out of the windows and found himself unsurprised by the passing streets, the bus having already traveled into a muggle city, though he did not know which. While they traveled, Harry had lost track of time, but eventually, the bus was thundering along Charring Cross Road. Suddenly, the bus slammed on its brakes, and they came to an abrupt halt right in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Right, that'd be seventeen sickles." The female informed, coming over to Harry as he gathered his things and got up from his seat.

"That's it?" Harry asked, surprised by the low sum.

The female nodded with a small smile. "I gave you a discount since you were patient. Not many would be on the bus for three hours without a complaint, especially with You-Know-Who around."

"It's been three hours?" Harry shook his head in amazement, wondering where he had been for that time.

"You fell asleep at one point, I think." The female grinned, assuring Harry that it had been three hours.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a galleon, two sickles, and a few knuts. "Seventeen sickles, you said?" Harry muttered, before handing the female the galleon and both of his sickles. "Have a good night."

"Thank you, sir!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide at Harry's generosity. Most people did not give her a tip, and the few that did only gave a knut or two, so to receive a sickle was a great windfall for her.

Harry strolled into the Leaky Cauldron, and through the smoke-filled air, he saw Tom the barman and headed over to the wizard. "Ah, Mr. Dumbledore, if I remember?" Tom said as Harry came up to him, having expected the young wizard.

"Right you are, Tom," Harry replied, trying his hardest not to cough as he walked through a plume of black smoke that billowed from a hag's pipe. "As my letter said, I need a room for the summer, if that is at all possible."

"Very possible," Tom nodded in the affirmative, having a few rooms open for Harry to use. Harry silently followed Tom to a room hidden underneath the stairs, which apparently served as the front desk to the inn above the tavern. "You can have room 23, one of the few rooms in this place that isn't haunted."

"Appreciate it," Harry rolled his eyes, amused by his luck. He reached into his pocket once again and took out a small tweed bag, which he gently put on top of the counter. "Here are a few galleons, that'll pay for the first few days. I'll get you the rest next week."

"No problem," Tom agreed, scooping up the tweed bag and handing over a dull bronze key to Harry in exchange. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Tom." Harry said, before heading up the stairs to his room, key in hand. He walked down the long, dusty hallway, stopping in front of a chipped wooden door that read the number 23. He put the key in the hole and gave it a twist, opening the door and revealing his quarters until school started up again. He gave the room a once over: it was medium sized, with a bed, a desk, a bathroom, a fireplace, and a window that overlooked Diagon Alley. Overall, he thought, it was nothing special, but it was a roof over his head and that's all that mattered. "I guess this is it," He sighed, as the door closed behind him, hiding him from the outside world.

A/N: All of you who want to see more Bellatrix and Harry should be ready for next chapter, because it's all been leading up to it. And Dumbledore is going to help out with that a lot by doing something so simply clever that no one would even think twice about it.


	20. Seventeen Forever

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Yes, Harry still needs to take the potion to stay the way he looks, I'm just not going to mention as much because it gets repetitive, that's all.

S/N 2: I told you that Harry was going to do something in a previous chapter that would thrust the story forward. You may want to look at chapter 12, Happy Christmas (War is Not Over) before reading this chapter.

Chapter 20: Seventeen Forever…

The next month and a half passed by relatively quickly, and before Harry knew it, it was his birthday. He woke up a little late, and when he was finally conscious, he saw a bunch of presents nestled at the foot of his bed. Before he could muster enough energy to make a move for his gifts, there was a flash of flames, and for a brief moment, the phoenix Fawkes appeared in the room, dropped off two boxes, and disappeared with another flash of flames. Quickly, Harry jumped out of bed and dashed to his presents, his eyes wide with excitement, eagerly wanting to see what his friends had gotten him. As he reached for the first one, he paused with a curious expression on his face, before a large smile suddenly took shape. "My apparition license!" He exclaimed loudly, rushing towards the bathroom, where he took a quick shower and got dressed. When he was finished, he immediately headed off to the Ministry of Magic, intent on returning with his license to apparate in the afternoon.

He arrived at the visitor entrance of the Ministry sometime later after walking through the busy streets of London. He dialed 'magic' into the telephone and said why he was there, and then waited for his pass to appear in the change hole. Just as he fastened the pass onto his shirt, the box disappeared into the ground, reappearing in the familiar lobby of the Ministry after a few moments of traveling. Exiting the telephone booth, he walked over to the elevator and pressed level six, which housed the Department of Magical Transportation, where the apparition office could be found. With a ding, the doors opened widely and he walked out and over to the wooden door in front of him, pushed it open and walked into to the reception area.

"Can I help you, son?" An older man said from behind the counter, presumably the receptionist of the office.

"I'm here to take my apparition test." Harry replied, not really knowing where to go or what to say.

The wizard nodded in understanding, looking up to Harry. "Very well, and what is your name?" He asked, grabbing his quill from the penholder.

"Harry Pot…Dumbledore. Harry Dumbledore," Harry answered, correcting himself after almost saying his real name. "But you may find me under Arold Dumbledore instead."

The older man reached over to a list that was on the counter and ran his finger down the names. "Ah, I see you took our course that is taught by Mr. Twycross."

"Yes, I did, last November." Harry nodded in the affirmative, remembering the lessons as if they were yesterday. The instructor Twycross had engrained the three D's into his mind: destination, determination, and deliberation.

"Good, good, you may take a seat over there and the instructor will be right with you." The man ordered, pointing to a set of chairs that was in the corner of the room. "It should be just a few moments."

"Thank you," Harry smiled in appreciation, before taking a seat in one of the chairs.

He waited patiently for fifteen minutes, watching as people came and went from the office, before a woman appeared in a doorway on the opposite side of the room. "Mr. Dumbledore?" She called out, looking over to Harry with an expectant gaze. Harry grinned and jogged over to her, ready and excited to take his test. "Are you of any relation to Albus Dumbledore?" She questioned as Harry walked into the testing room, closing the door behind him.

"Ah, yeah," Harry nodded in agreement, though he wanted to stay as cryptic about it as possible. "He's my great uncle."

"Oh, I didn't realize he had any family." She whispered, as she stood off to the side and gestured for Harry to stand inside one of the two hoops that were placed on the carpeted floor in the center of the small room. "In order to get your license, you have to perform three tasks up to satisfaction, specifically without splinching yourself: you must first apparate from one hoop to the other within a minute of me saying go; then you must apparate from one hoop to the other and then back to the first hoop; and finally, you must apparate into the room behind that door," She pointed to a door across from Harry, which was opposite the door that led to the waiting area. "And if you do that successfully, you will get your license. If not, you must wait a day to retake the test. Do you have any questions?"

"No," Harry shook his head, steeping into the hoop in front of him. "Not that I can think of any."

"Very well, you may start in three, two, and one. Go." Harry thought about his three d's as he stared at the other hoop. Closing his eyes, he spun around on his heels and felt his body being pulled through a rubber tube before it stopped and he looked down, hoping that he was successful. "Very good job, that's one down, two to go."

Harry smiled at the lady, before he concentrated on returning to the other hoop. With a loud crack, he appeared in the other hoop, before disappearing and reappearing in the second hoop once again. "Two down, now all you have to do is apparate into the next room." She walked over to the door and went into the next room, leaving Harry alone to his apparition. Harry stared at the wall for a brief moment, trying to visualize the room, before he disapparated away with a loud crack, appearing in another room that looked to be an exact replica of the previous room. "Very good, very good, Mr. Dumbledore," The instructor smiled, congratulating Harry on a successful test.

"Thank you," Harry replied, giving a great sigh of relief, proud of himself for accomplishing his goal.

The lady walked over to the desk that was in the back of the room, pulled open a drawer, and took out a small card. She gripped her wand and tapped the card twice, as _Harry Dumbledore _magically appeared on the card just above the line that said 'name'. She handed the card over to Harry, who stared down at it with wide, happy eyes and a jubilant smile on his face. "Congratulations again, Mr. Dumbledore, that was a job well done." She said, commending Harry's effort, before leaving back into the room she came from.

With a large grin still on his face, Harry exited the room through the other door, which led back to the hallway into which the Ministry elevators exited. He entered the elevator and went back up to the lobby and then disapparated away into Diagon Alley, enjoying the feeling that had overcome him. He stopped by the candy store and got himself a few butterbeers and lots of candy, before heading back up to his room, wanting to dive into those presents that he received. From the two that Fawkes had brought, he had unwrapped a wizard's pocket watch (including a vial of the monthly potion for Harry to drink in order to keep his look) and a cake that said 'Happy Birthday Harry' on it, which were from Dumbledore and Hagrid respectively. He had also received a box of chocolates from Greta Catchlove, whom Harry had become quite good friends with since leaving Hogwarts. Edgar had sent him a book that had firsthand accounts of dueling bloopers, mistakes that duelers had made in sanctioned world championship duels like tripping over their own robes or having their own spells backfire on them. Finally, he had received a monocle from Xenophilius Lovegood, which he had supposedly charmed to show wrackspurts floating in the air, a microscopic creature that infested someone's ear and made their minds go fuzzy.

When he was done opening up his presents, he drank the potion and grabbed the one present that he was truly surprised to receive—the pocket watch. He stared at the watch with an inquisitive eye, remembering what Ron had mentioned when the twins had turned seventeen: it was customary for parents to give their sons a pocket watch, which was the reason nearly every wizard that had one magical parent carried a pocket watch with them. A great sadness stole over him, a feeling of regret that it was neither his parents, nor Sirius that gave him the watch, and while Dumbledore felt like family to him, it just wasn't the same. Even so, he had to admit that the watch itself was beautiful. It was made out of a dull gold or vibrant bronze metal and instead of numbers it had planets, along with six colorful hands—black, purple, blue, red, yellow, and white. He had no idea how it worked, but he hoped he would be able to figure it out on his own in time.

At six o'clock, Harry walked down stairs for dinner, taking a seat at one of the empty booths near the entrance to Diagon Alley. He picked up a menu that was tucked behind an empty jug of pumpkin juice on the side of the table, and began to peruse what the Leaky Cauldron had to eat. "You know, if you stare at that menu any harder, you might apparate into it—that is, as long as you don't forget your three D's." A female voice from above Harry said in a familiar mocking tone, startling the wizard a bit.

Harry turned his attention to the woman, and his eyes went wide when he saw it was Bellatrix Black. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked in a curious tone, looking up at her from his seat in the booth.

She took a spot on the bench across from him, giving him a small grin. "Happy birthday," She replied, answering his question in a way that he didn't expect.

Harry blinked at what she had said. Without saying anything, he looked at her for a second, slightly befuddled by her sudden appearance, before smiling broadly. "You remembered?" He inquired happily; inwardly impressed and honored that she remembered his birthday.

"I had to," Bellatrix responded in a mock haughty tone, puffing her chest out a bit. "I might be a Black, but I do have manners. You know quid pro quo, repaying debts, yada yada yada and all that other stuff."

"Well, thank you." Harry replied, truly happy and thankful that she took time out of her day to visit him. "It was very nice of you."

"You're by yourself?" Bellatrix questioned, though it did not seem as if she was making fun of him. Instead, it seemed to make her even happier, as if she was glad that no one else was around because she didn't have to hide their friendship.

"Yeah," Harry answered, wondering what she had in mind.

"Good, have you ordered?" She asked, seemingly intending on eating with him. She grabbed another menu from behind the empty jug, and gave it a quick look.

"Not yet." Harry replied, looking back down at his menu, trying to decide if he wanted a simple fish and chip dish or try something more exotic.

Bellatrix grinned, appreciating her timing. "I like their shepherd's pie here." She admitted, having had a liking of the meal ever since she was a little girl.

"I don't like shepherd's pie anywhere." Harry said with a slight scowl, having bad memories of Dudley stuffing his face with shepherd's pie as child.

"You don't know what you're missing, then." Bellatrix tisked, as she mockingly feigned disappointment. "Did you know that it was invented by a wizard?"

"What, shepherd's pie? No, I did not know that." Harry replied with an amused expression, motioning for her to continue.

"Yeah, my uncle Alphard told me about it," Bellatrix whispered, leaning in towards Harry to get closer to him as if she was saying some great secret. "Apparently, the wizard who invented it needed something dull and uninteresting to fool the muggles he lived with into believing that he was a muggle."

Harry snorted at that, appreciating the joke, though noting the muggle hating subtext of it. "I'm guessing they didn't question his muggleness after that, eh?"

"Would you?" Bellatrix inquired rhetorically with a raised eyebrow, staring at Harry with her violet eyes. They looked at each other for a few moments, neither one looking away, each realizing how comfortable they were in each other's presence.

"Bellatrix!" A voice called out through the bar, grabbing the witch's attention. Harry moved his gaze over and saw a couple standing near the entrance to the alley, looking over to them. The man appeared to be in his late fifties, and had brown eyes and brown hair that was speckled with gray streaks. The woman, meanwhile, had short dark hair, with beady black eyes and a scrunched face, looking vaguely similar to Pansy Parkinson.

"One second," Bellatrix murmured, getting up from her side of the booth and rushing over to the couple. Harry's attention moved down to the menu once more, but in the corner of his eye, he could see the man was staring directly at him, though he paid it no mind, neither knowing nor caring who he was at the moment. Bellatrix spoke with them for a few minutes, before she walked away from the pair and came back to the booth. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be here."

"Who was that?" Harry questioned, watching as the couple walked out of the Cauldron and into the alleyway that led to Diagon Alley.

"That was Rodel Orinn and Rue Lestrange, nee Valetine, the parents of Rodolphus and Rabastan." She answered, somewhat awkwardly, giving Harry much more information than he needed, as if she was hiding something. "They were good friends of my parents while growing up, and I think they're conspiring to have Rodolphus and I married."

"Oh?" Harry questioned with a raised and intrigued eyebrow. _So it really was a loveless marriage, one arranged by their parents,_ Harry thought to himself, recalling how Bellatrix seemed to love Voldemort more than her husband in the future. "Is he a Death Eater?"

"Maybe," Bellatrix shrugged, though Harry could tell that she was lying: he was a Death Eater and she knew it. He didn't push it, he didn't want to have a fight with her after she had come to celebrate his birthday, and in addition, he knew there was nothing he could do about it even if she admitted that he was a Death Eater so he moved on instead.

Luckily, Tom the barkeep came over just then to take their order, saving Harry from making an awkward attempt to change the conversation. "What'll you'll both have?" He questioned in a thick cockney accent and a gravely tone, giving them a toothy grin.

"I'll take the shepherd's pie," Bellatrix answered, looking up at Tom with a slight look of disgust. Then, as if realizing what she was doing, she turned and looked away, not wanting Harry to see the look that she had on her face.

"The fish and chips, please," Harry spoke after the pad that was hovering in mid air finished writing Bellatrix's order.

"And what'll you have to drink?" Tom questioned them both, looking expectantly at the couple.

Harry looked over to Bellatrix, who looked back at him, seemingly allowing him to make the decision. "A fresh jug of pumpkin juice and two butterbeers, please." Harry answered, in the mood for some pumpkin juice all the sudden.

"Right up," Tom said, before walking away with the pad following in mid-air behind him.

"So what do you want to do after we eat?" Bellatrix questioned as she pulled her black hair back into a ponytail, allowing her facial features to be seen fully.

"What will we do? A little pretentious of you, don't you think?" Harry asked, teasing her on her presumption. _She's lively tonight_, Harry commented to himself, wondering what made the wall that she had up throughout the school year finally break.

"Again, I'm a Black; I was born to be pretentious." Bellatrix smirked, making Harry laugh.

Two hours later found Harry surprisingly enjoying himself as he and Bellatrix walked down the nearly empty Diagon Alley, each looking at the various shops that the alley had to offer. They came across Ivey Canady's cart near the center of the alley, and Harry licked his lips at the sight of popcorn. "Do you want some popcorn?"

"What's popcorn?" Bellatrix questioned Harry, having heard of it a few times before, but never having eaten or seen it.

"You've never had popcorn?" Harry questioned in a tone mixed with amazement, incredulousness and amusement. "Are you kidding? How is that even possible?"

"No," Bellatrix shook her head, having never had it before. "What is it?"

"Don't ask, just eat," Harry grinned as handed a few knuts to the female attendant of the cart and grabbed a small bag of popcorn off of the shelf.

"Thank you, Harry." Ivey Canady replied with a small smile, having grown accustomed to the boy since his arrival at the Leaky Cauldron in the beginning of the summer.

With an appreciative nod to her, Harry turned his attention back to Bellatrix, intent on showing her that muggle snacks were just as good as wizarding ones. He unwrapped the top of the bag and took a handful of popcorn out, before shaking another handful into Bellatrix's hand. "It's delicious," He assured her, taking another handful and popping it into his mouth.

Skeptically, Bellatrix placed a piece of popcorn on her tongue and gulped it down, not even bothering to chew it. She put another piece in her mouth, and unlike the last time, she chewed it and smiled as she heard the satisfying crunch of the kernel. "This is good," She said as she mimicked Harry by taking another handful out of the bag.

"I told you it was." Harry replied, tossing a few pieces into his own mouth. "Clearly, you should listen to me more. I have pretty good taste."

"I didn't listen to you when I was trying to learn something that would potentially protect my soul from being sucked out by a hooded monster, do you really think I'd listen to you about my snack choices?" Bellatrix drawled sarcastically, making a joke at Harry's expense.

"Yes," Harry grinned, nodding his head vigorously. "You may not have cared about your soul, but you should care about your taste buds in the future."

"Became friends with the cart girl, did you?" Bellatrix questioned with a sly grin, changing the subject.

"Who, Ivey? I'm fairly certain she's dating Florean Fortescue." Harry replied knowingly, having become quite attuned to the gossip of Diagon Alley over the last month and a half.

"Harry's got a little crush, methinks." Bellatrix whistled playfully, ribbing Harry gently with her elbow, just wanting to initiate some physical contact with him.

Harry looked over at her with a smile, ribbing her back. "She's more than a cart attendant, you know." Harry informed, looking into the window of a shop that they had just passed. "She actually owns that chocolate shop at the far end of the alley. Her snacks are delicious, really. I wouldn't be surprised if she is more successful than Honeydukes."

Just then, Bellatrix noticed her cousin Regulus coming out from Knockturn Alley. He quickly walked out of the alley and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron, a small bag hidden underneath his arm. "I wonder what he has," She whispered to herself, before shaking her head and turning her attention back to Harry.

"What's that?" Harry asked distractedly, watching as an owl flew over him, presumably delivering an order from one of the shops of the alley.

"I thought I saw someone I knew, that's all." Bellatrix lied, pushing the thoughts of Regulus to the back of her mind. She had no idea what he had gotten from Knockturn Alley, but she assumed it was Death Eater related, as it had been his dream to join with the Death Eaters ever since he first came to Hogwarts and he had not deviated from the dream to her knowledge.

They continued on walking, until Bellatrix paused for a second and then entered an apothecary, Harry following directly behind her. "I wanted to see something real quick," She whispered, as she walked around the shop, her eyes roaming over the various potions that were listed.

Harry nodded, and walked over to a locked glass cabinet that housed the most expensive potions that the shop had to offer. His eyes moved over a few vials, before they paused on a small vial of a golden liquid that he had seen before: Felix Felicis. "That's enough for one perfect day," He believed, remembering what Professor Slughorn had told the class the first day in NEWT-level Potions. "I have a vial of this, you know." He said quietly, hearing Bellatrix breathing behind him.

"I want a perfect day." Bellatrix grinned, walking over to the attendant and whispering something, pointing all the while to the cabinet in front of which Harry was standing.

The attendant's eyes went wide, and a large smile appeared on his face. "Right away, ma'am," He said, running over to the cabinet and using his wand to dispel the wards that were protecting the shelves inside. He grabbed the vial of Felix Felicis and quickly closed the cabinet back up, walking over to the counter and handing the vial to Bellatrix. "That will be fifty galleons, ma'am."

"Pricey," Harry whistled, though he knew either one of them could afford it. He knew from a prior conversation that he had with Sirius that the Black children had received a large inheritance when they were young from their grandparents when they had died, including Bellatrix and her sisters, as well. Additionally, Harry assumed that Bellatrix would also have received a small inheritance from her uncle Alphard, the uncle who had gifted Sirius a large sum and was blasted off of the family tree as a result. _Though, now that I think about it, I'm not sure that has happened yet_, he thought to himself, wondering about the timing of when Sirius would receive the gold from his uncle. _After all, by the way Bellatrix had mentioned him before, it seemed as if he was still alive_, Harry noted to himself.

"Owl it to me and payment will be disbursed once received." Bellatrix said, realizing that she didn't have fifty galleons of gold on her body at that moment. Turning, she smiled at Harry, who cocked an eyebrow in response, wondering what she had in mind and why she had gone into the apothecary in the first place. "So, what do you want to do now?"

The rest of the night was spent just wandering down Diagon Alley; they spent their time looking at the various items that the stores had to offer, while eating from nearly every trolley cart that was still open. Even though Harry would never admit it, he had a great time with her, and when she was just being herself, she was quite charming, albeit a tad arrogant. Before he knew it, the night was over and they found themselves back in the Leaky Cauldron, each saying goodbye to one another. "We should be getting our Hogwarts letters soon." Bellatrix whispered, a few feet away from Harry.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, knowing that it was around that time of the year. His summer was more than halfway finished, and he would be returning to Hogwarts soon to finish out his magical studies.

"So I guess I'll see you there, then?" She questioned, back peddling her way to the door, keeping her eyes directly on Harry's. "Oh, and don't go using your Felix without me."

"Of course…to both." Harry nodded again; Bellatrix smiled at him one last time and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, giving him a small wave before she disappeared through the door. "What have I gotten myself into?" He whispered to himself, feeling something deep inside of him rising, a feeling he had never had before, not even when he was around Cho Chang. With a sigh, he headed upstairs to his room and started to prepare himself for bed. However, as he was just getting his pajamas out from the dresser, there were two loud bangs on his door, each in quick succession. "Who is that?" He questioned quietly, grabbing his wand and walking over to the door. He quickly unlocked it, prepared for a fight, and opened a crack in the door just wide enough to see who it was.

"Happy birthday, mate!" Edgar Bones called out, with Xenophilius Lovegood standing immediately behind him. "Didn't think we wouldn't come, did you?"

"Actually," Harry smiled, opening the door widely and letting them into his room. "I kind of did."

"Nonsense," Edgar replied, shaking that idea off. He and Harry had become quite close, and he wouldn't dream of ignoring Harry's birthday—after all, he knew Harry would certainly come for his birthday in a few months. "We came earlier, but you weren't here."

"Yeah, I was with someone." Harry answered, hoping to avoid telling them who he exactly was with for the night. It wasn't that he didn't trust them or that he thought there would be an issue with him hanging out with Bellatrix; instead it was just that he didn't know what exactly to say about Bellatrix himself, and until he did, he didn't want to talk about it.

"We saw." Xenophilius informed him, making Harry flinch in response.

Edgar smiled between Xenophilius and Harry, before throwing his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Let's go."

"Just let me get my shoes." Harry said, before twisting his wand and watching them zoom through the air and into his hands. Quickly throwing them on, he closed the door behind him and the trio walked downstairs into the pub below. After a few raucous rounds of butterbeers at the pub underneath the inn, Harry made his way back up to his room, falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, having experienced one of the greatest birthdays he could ever have.

A/N: I hope you all liked the interaction between Harry and Bellatrix. I told you it was coming. Still, I make no guarantees that it's going to turn out the way many of you think it's going to turn out. By the way, the clever thing that Dumbledore will do will not be showing up until a few chapters from now, when Harry returns to school.


	21. Summer's End

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Sorry for the long wait, I've been trying to decide how long I want this story to go. Right now, I'm pondering just ending it at the end of Hogwarts, and having some chapters after a time skip that show the future.

S/N 2: Again, I'm sorry for not responding to the reviews, I've been awfully busy lately. I promise I'll do a better job of it this time.

Chapter 21: Summer's End

After receiving his Hogwarts letter a day prior, Harry walked down to Diagon Alley from his room in the Leaky Cauldron, intent on buying all of the supplies he needed for his last year at Hogwarts. It hadn't hit him just yet that he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts after the coming year, but he knew it would eventually, probably the second he stepped off of the Hogwarts Express and was in view of the castle. It was bittersweet for him—in one way, he was thrilled to be able to do whatever he wanted to do, to join the fight against Voldemort; on the other hand, however, he knew he would miss Hogwarts, his home, and all of the people that made it special for him, like Dumbledore and Hagrid.

He took his time as he walked through the various shops, gathering everything that he would need for the coming year. He went from place to place, store to store savoring every minute of his final Hogwarts shopping experience. Just as he was stepping out of the apothecary, from which he had bought most of the potion ingredients he would need for the year, he saw Sirius and James walking down the alley. Along with the two younger wizards, there was an older couple, who followed closely behind them, giving them their space but still staying near enough to help if they needed it. The older couple looked to be around the age of 70 or so, somewhat young in wizarding terms, but still on the older side. They had jolly looks, countenances that showed general niceness, unlike many of the other attendees of Diagon Alley, who all nervously looked around and had perpetual looks of fear on their faces.

Instantly, Harry's mind thought back to a conversation that he had had with Sirius during his time at Grimmauld Place. _"When I was about sixteen, I'd had enough. I camped out at your dad's during the school holidays..."_ Sirius had relayed when the pair were looking over the tapestry, telling Harry how much Harry's grandparents' kindness had meant to him as a teenager.

"Wait, they can't be…can they?" He questioned with a small lump in his throat, wondering if those two people could actually be his grandmother and grandfather.

Before he could catch up and get a closer look, the foursome disappeared into the Leaky Cauldron, and by the time Harry had entered, they were gone. With a sigh, he exited the pub and went back to the alley, still having a few items to buy before he was finished for the day. As he was walking, he suddenly noticed that the alley had become darker than it was just moments prior. He moved his gaze up to the sky and saw a glittering green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth appear in the clouds, an omen of darkness that struck fear into the hearts of wizards and witches alike. "It's the Death Eaters!" He heard a voice scream out through the alley, then the loud bang of an explosion happen immediately following.

Suddenly, a horde of Death Eaters, wearing black cloaks and bone masks, invaded the peaceful alley, appearing with cracks and rushing out of Knockturn alley. They swished, flicked, and jetted their wands in reckless abandon, destroying and decimating everything in sight, from carts and shops to people and items. Storefronts were blown to smithereens as wizards and witches rushed away from the scene, hoping against hope to escape the danger and safely return to their home. The few Aurors that were guarding the alley hurried into battle, but most of them were immediately downed by numerous Killing Curses, being severely outnumbered by the dark followers of Voldemort.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed his wand and defended himself, blocking a jinx that had come his way. "Stupefy!" He said loudly, hitting a Death Eater with a jet of red light, where he fell unconscious to the ground. As he further entered the fray, a few other brave patrons of Diagon Alley began to fight off the Death Eaters as well, all willing to risk themselves in order to keep others safe from harm.

A Death Eater noticed him and quickly ran at him, earning Harry's attention. Harry dodged the curse that came his way, rolling on the ground and thrusting his wand forward. A set of thick ropes jumped out of the tip of his wand, wrapping themselves tightly around the Death Eater's arms and legs. Unbalanced, the Death Eater fell to the ground and Harry immediately followed his attack up with a stunner, which hit the downed Death Eater square in the chest, forcing him into unconsciousness. As Harry got back to his feet, there was a blast to his left that blew glass into his face, which made him use his arm to block it from entering his eyes. Stepping over the glass that had fallen onto the ground, his gaze moved around the area, searching for someone to help or a Death Eater to duel.

Bodies began to fall all around him, Death Eaters and innocents alike. He swished his wand and a Death Eater that was dueling a shop owner was thrown into a wall next to him, as if some great gust of wind had swept him off of his feet. The Death Eater slithered off of the wall and onto the ground, where he stared up at Harry with a dazed look on his face, his bone mask having cracked and fallen off due to the force of Harry's spell. Harry pointed his wand at the man and, with a flash of red light, silently cast the stunning spell, which knocked the Death Eater into unconsciousness. As he stood over the Death Eater, he moved his gaze over the alley once more, searching for someone to help. There, about twenty feet ahead of him, he noticed a woman fighting a large Death Eater, her back facing most of the battle.

"Professor!" Harry suddenly screamed, seeing that it was his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Regula Moonshine in the thrust of battle. As a green Killing Curse flew towards her back, Harry swiped his wand through the air, and her legs were immediately pulled out from under her. The Killing Curse flew safely over her as a result, and hit the Death Eater she was dueling, who slumped to the ground, dead. As she was lying on the ground, an explosion above sent crumpled pieces of debris down upon her, covering her in a small pile of rubble.

Dodging various curses, hexes, and jinxes, Harry rushed over to the mound of debris, using his wand to quickly peel layers upon layers of rock away, trying to get to Moonshine. He saw a hex heading his way, which he blocked with a shield, before stunning a Death Eater that wasn't paying any attention to him and then returning to mound of rock. Quickly he dug and dug until, at long last, Moonshine came into sight, and mustering every ounce of strength he had, he grabbed her hand and pulled her from the rubble.

Just as Harry dragged Moonshine from out of danger, an army of Aurors, Hit Wizards, and other Ministry personnel apparated onto the scene, and immediately confronted the Death Eaters. "Are you okay, professor?" Harry questioned on bended knee, making sure Moonshine was conscious and aware.

"Thank you, Harry," Professor Moonshine whispered, grabbing her ribs in excruciating pain. She tenderly touched the left side of her chest, and winced instantly, nearly unable to breath due to the pain. "I think you saved my life."

"You would have been fine without me, I'm just glad I could help," Harry said with a small, tired smile. Harry watched the scene, Death Eaters were disapparating, apparently too cowardly to fight off the trained Ministry officials. Eventually, all of the Death Eaters were subdued, killed, or had retreated, leaving the Ministry to deal with the aftermath without fear of attack. "Are you sure you're okay, professor?" Harry questioned one more time as Moonshine got to her feet, and made to leave with a tall man that had arrived with the other Aurors.

"I'll be fine, thank you again, Harry." Moonshine smiled through the pain, trying to be strong for her student. "I'll see you soon." She said, before walking off with the wizard, both of them disappearing with a loud crack after a few struggling moments.

Just then, there were some more cracks, revealing a group of witches and wizards that started to appear in the alley. Harry's gaze moved over the group, and he recognized most of them from the Order of the Phoenix picture that Moody has showed to him back in his own time. They were younger, yes, and a little more cheerful, but easily recognizable as the brave wizards and witches that dared to fight against Voldemort and his forces.

He watched as they all joined in the effort to help out, healing whoever they could and cleaning whatever they came about. Looking around, seeing the destruction that the Death Eaters caused in such a short time, it finally hit him, he finally understood the fear that Mr. Weasley had referenced when speaking about the Death Eaters back in his own time. The Death Eater assault was sudden and vicious, instantly turning a pleasant alley into an area of death and disorder, even though the attack had only lasted a quick few minutes. The ability of the Death Eaters to appear from out of nowhere with no warning was a potent way to spread fear, as the Death Eaters could potentially bring their menace to anywhere in the country at anytime of day. While he had always understood why the Death Eaters had the power to spread so much fear, seeing it in person gave him a greater realization of it that no one could have without being a witness, without viewing it with their own eyes.

"Mate," A voice said from behind him, a voice that had come to know very well over the last few months. "I'm glad to see that you're okay."

"I figured you'd come," Harry replied, continuing to watch the Aurors as they went about counting the injured and the dead. "Working with the Order of the Phoenix, are you?" He questioned, turning around to meet his friend Edgar Bones.

"Did Albus tell you that I had joined the Order?" Edgar questioned, unsurprised that Harry knew about the Order of the Phoenix.

"You could say that," Harry answered with a shrug, not daring to tell him that Hagrid had been the one to tell him back in his own time. "Either way, I know about it."

"Is everyone okay?" Edgar asked, surveying the scene. Some of the various Ministry officials that had come were now wrangling up the downed Death Eaters, while the others sent for mediwitches and mediwizards to heal the injured.

"Not everyone," Harry said sadly, noticing a body in front of one of the shops that had been struck by the Killing Curse. It was a twenty year old squib, who had gotten a job selling owls to make a living that had helped Harry just an hour or so prior when he had asked for some owl treats. Harry was angry at the sight, knowing that the man was nothing but kind, and he did not deserve to die like he had.

"I hope we can get here sooner next time," Edgar sighed, turning and facing Harry, not wanting to see the bodies any longer. Then, wanting to cheer Harry up, he grinned. "I have someone for you to meet, but it'll have to be during the Christmas break."

"Oh?" Harry replied, raising an intrigued eyebrow. "Who?" He questioned curiously, which just elicited a smile from Edgar. "Who?" He pressed his friend to answer, wanting to know even more now.

"My fiancée," Edgar finally answered, to the surprise of Harry.

Later that night, it was late and Harry couldn't sleep. He sat in the center of his bed, a strange dragon contraption held in his lap. "Do I want to pursue a relationship with her?" Harry questioned quietly, looking down at the dragon. The water in the base sloshed and bubbled, before a puff of blue smoke entered the air. "I know the answer to that question then?" Again, another puff of blue smoke filtered out of the dragon's mouth. "I do want to pursue her," Harry admitted to himself, his stomach knotting and tightening at that realization. He put the dragon on his bedside table, and leaned back into his bed. "Would I be betraying Sirius? Betraying the Order of the Phoenix? Betraying everything that I stood and still stand for? I want to be around her, she makes me feel…happy."

As the summer started to wind down, Harry walked into Gringotts bank the day before he was to leave for Hogwarts. He patiently waited on line, looking around interestedly at the various people within the bank and the multitude of goblins that scurried about, before he heard a loud voice booming in front of him. "Boy, step forward!" A goblin at the desk sneered, looking at Harry with limited respect.

"Um, sorry," Harry replied, moving forward as requested.

"Key," The goblin demanded, reaching his tiny hand out towards Harry.

"That's actually why I'm here, I don't have one yet." Harry answered, staring up at the goblin with a curious gaze. He had come to Gringotts to procure a vault, not take money out of a vault he did not yet have. "I'm looking to get a vault."

"Over there!" The goblin snapped, pointing over to a short line on the far end of the building, where a few smaller desks were set up. There were no signs or directions saying anything about procuring a vault, which Harry had looked for before he stepped into the line.

"Thank you," Harry replied, giving a smile when he heard the goblin cursing in gobbledygook as he walked away. "Hello, I'm here to get a vault." Harry said, walking up to a goblin that called him forward after having waited in line for nearly ten minutes.

"Very well," The goblin nodded in a haughty tone, giving Harry a once over with his gaze. "From the looks of you, I would imagine you would like a higher up vault, no?"

"A small vault is fine if that's what you mean," Harry responded easily, not taking the insult for anything more than a subtle jab. He had no idea how much wealth was actually needed for a low vault, but he sincerely doubted he had enough to even approach such a vault. Additionally, there had been only one breach of Gringotts that he was aware about, and that was Voldemort searching for a particular item, not a random wizard trying to steal gold.

"Name?" The goblin questioned, reaching into his desk and pulling out a form. He grabbed a quill and waited for Harry to respond, needing to fill out the form in order to secure a vault for Harry.

"Arold Dumbledore," Harry answered, watching at the goblin quickly jotted down the name, apparently not really worrying if the name was accurate or not. _I have no proof that I am who I say I am_ _outside of my apparition license_, Harry thought to himself, _I guess they really don't care, do they?_

The goblin tinkered with a few things on his desk, and then reached into the top drawer, pulling out a small bronze key that looked nearly identical to Harry's old key. "Vault 181," He said, as small numbers burned bright on the shaft of the key, ingraining into the metal the magic necessary to open the vault door. When the numbers subsided, he gruffly handed the key over to Harry and then stared up at the wizard expectantly.

"Yes?" Harry asked, somewhat confused by what the goblin wanted.

"Ten galleons," The goblin replied, holding his hand out to accept payment.

"Oh, right," Harry nodded in understanding, feeling a bit ignorant while the process went on, having assumed that they would just take it out of his vault. He reached into his pocket and took out a fistful of galleons, before counting out ten gold coins and handing them over to the goblin, whose eyes were wide with surprise at Harry's actions. "Can I go to my vault now?"

"Traknud," The goblin called out, grabbing the attention of a young goblin that was organizing a few papers off to the side. "Take the wizard to his new vault."

"Very well," The young goblin nodded to his superior respectively, before looking over to Harry. "This way," He gestured for Harry to follow him, guiding them both out of the main hall and towards the carts. "Key please," He said to Harry when they arrived at an empty cart. Harry handed him over his newly furbished key and watched as Traknud ran a clawed finger over it. Instantly, four numbers appeared in gold lettering, showing just what vault the key served. "181."

The cart sped off as soon as both the goblin and Harry were in. It dipped into a tunnel that Harry had never gone into before, speeding a couple hundred yards before coming to an abrupt halt in front of a row of small vaults. "That was quick," Harry noted, recalling how the trip to his former vault back in his own time had taken much longer.

"These vaults do not go as deep into the ground as many of our more prestigious vaults do," Traknud answered, getting out of the cart and stepping onto the ledge in front of the vault marked 181.

Harry nodded in understanding, presuming that the deeper the vault, the more protected it was. He had heard rumors that there were even dragons protecting the really deep ones, though he had no idea if they were true or not and he assumed that they were not. Once he was on the ledge, he pulled out his trunk from his pocket and placed it onto the ground. Running his wand over the trunk, it grew and grew until it was back to its normal size.

Traknud, meanwhile, took Harry's key and opened the vault, before taking a step backwards to give Harry more room. "That trunk," Traknud said slowly, his eyes wide in confusion as he stared down at Harry's trunk. "It is infused with goblin magic."

"Is it?" Harry questioned, surprised a little by the revelation. "I got it as a present from a friend of mine."

"Little more than theft, that is." Traknud scowled, turning away from Harry's vault with a look of disgust. He disliked the human practice of handing things down to another by way of gift or inheritance, as he believed the maker of the object was the one to have ownership of it, rather than the purchaser, as was goblin custom.

"Right," Harry whispered confusedly, before turning his attention back to his vault. It was smaller than the one he had been given from his parents, but it would suit his needs just fine. Lifting his trunk upwards, he dumped a pile of gold, silver and bronze coins into the center of the vault, before stopping, seeing that it was about half the contents of his trunk. "That should do it," He finished, staring at the pile of money, trying to count it all up with his gaze. It was large, a little less overall than the amount of gold that he had seen in his old vault when he first learned about his wizarding heritage, which surprised him a bit, considering it was only about half of what he currently possessed. "I guess Sirius was loaded."

Bellatrix Black awoke at sunrise on September 1st, the morning that Hogwarts students were to take the express to start the new school year. After taking a shower, straightening her long black hair, and putting on her clothes, she walked over to the table that was next to her bed and picked up a small pin. She fingered the pin that had an H in front of the Hogwarts coat of arms, recognizing and understanding exactly what the symbol meant: that she was Head Girl. Silently, she fastened it to the front of her shirt, and then turned and looked in the mirror that was hanging on the wall. She gave a small, lifeless smile to herself as she stared at the reflection, before spinning and walking across her room.

She picked up her wand and ran it over her trunk, shrinking it down to the size of a tiny matchbox. She then walked over to her owl's perch and handed her owl an owl treat, petting the top of its head as it ate. Once it was done eating its treat, she fastened the trunk onto the large owl's leg, and then opened the window and allowed it to fly out. When the owl was out of sight, she closed the window, took one last look around her room and exited out of the door.

Her parents were waiting for her at the door of their familial home, 23 Dungient Street, as she walked down the stairs. "Ready, dear?" Her mother, Druella, asked her in loving, yet somewhat cold voice. She was a petite female, with a strong jaw and light blonde hair, and had the same heavy-lidded violet eyes that her daughter had inherited. All in all, while the Blacks had a noble beauty about them, Druella had a more down-to-earth look that was masked by a cold personality.

"Yes," She answered simply, a reserved excitement about her. She didn't know how to feel about the impending final year of her Hogwarts life. In a way, she knew that she should be excited about the prospect of her future, of all the other adventures that life would have in store for her; however, she knew exactly what adventures that her peers, her family, and her friends wanted of her and for her: a life of being a Death Eater. And, if she was honest with herself, it was the life that she wanted in the back of her mind on some level, as well.

"Shall we then?" Her father, Cygnus, gestured, opening the door to the outside muggle world. He was a tall man, with a stout build, long black hair and the familiar gray eyes of the Black family.

They all exited the house, with her father closing and locking the door behind them, and then began the trek to the station. The trio of Blacks quietly walked the few blocks to the train station, with the parents giving deep scowls and other disgusted looks at the passing muggles, while the daughter was biting her lip. _This is it_, she thought to herself, _my last time making this walk with them_.

They arrived about fifteen minutes before the express was to leave. After quickly running through the hidden entrance to platform 9 and 3/4, they all stood on the platform, preparing themselves to say their goodbyes. "Bye dear," Her mother said, hugging her tightly before moving back and allowing her husband to say goodbye. "Write us whenever you can."

"Yes, like your mother said, be sure to write," Her father said, giving Bellatrix a gentle hug and kissing the top of her head. "Goodbye, Bellatrix."

"I will," She promised them, knowing that she would write a few times over the course of the year. Pulling away from her parents, she turned and took the step up onto the train. Waving to her parents one last time, she proceeded to walk down the aisle and to the front of the train, where the Head Boy and Girl had their own compartment.

"Bellatrix," Frank Longbottom said when she entered, having arrived just moments before she had. She nodded to him, but stayed silent, instead just taking her seat on the opposite bench and staring out of the window, pondering the reasons why she was made the Head Girl. Ever since she had received her badge in the mail at the beginning of August, she had been unsuccessful in trying to figure out why she was selected above the other girls of her year and why Albus Dumbledore had chosen her, especially considering the fact that they had only spoken to each other a few times and he had shown no prior interest in her studies prior to then. What had changed? What had made her worthy of being Head Girl two years after being deemed unworthy of being a prefect? Surely her reputation as not being a good and honest person didn't change over the past two years, had it?

As Bellatrix sat and gazed out of the window, Harry arrived at the train station about ten minutes before the Hogwarts Express was to leave. With his shrunken trunk in his pocket, he entered one of the carts and walked down the length of the train, searching for an empty compartment. At the back of the train, about four from the end, he found one totally empty and he entered it, taking a seat against the window as he prepared himself for the journey. Within minutes, the train lurched into motion and began speeding out of London, northwards to the highlands of Scotland, where Hogwarts was nestled in the country side.

A/N: As for 23 Dungient Street: 1) Dungient is a portmanteau of the words Dungeon and Ancient, i.e. the house is an ancient dungeon. 2) Is it a coincidence that Harry stayed in room 23? As for Bellatrix being made the Head Girl, all will be explained. And this chapter is one in which Harry did something that drastically changed the future, can you guess what? Here's a hint—check out chapter 15, "Problems Spelling."

A/N 2: The dragon object is the one that Harry received from Dumbledore in the 12 chapter, entitled "Happy Christmas War is Not Over".


	22. The Lemon Drop Dispute

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: In an effort to appease some fans that wanted a longer chapter last time, here is a new chapter weeks before I intended on putting it up. Enjoy!

S/N 2: Many of you had the right idea on how Harry changed the future during the last chapter, but a lot missed another way that he changed the future, both of which will be subplots for the remainder of this story.

Chapter 22: The Lemon Drop Dispute

As Harry stared out the window at the passing countryside, he drifted off into the darkness of sleep, only to awake when the train came to a jerking stop once the Express arrived at Hogwarts hours later. At the front of the train, Bellatrix gathered her things and directed many of the younger students to where they were supposed to go, half-heartedly welcoming them and showing them the way to the boats. She said hello to a few students that she was friends with, and rushed the others along to the carriages, doing her duties diligently albeit without much enthusiasm. When she was finished, she headed to the carriages herself, her eyes moving about, searching for her group of Slytherins that included Rabastan Lestrange, Rosier, Mulciber, Snape, and Avery.

Harry, meanwhile, stayed in the comfort of his compartment for a few minutes, allowing everyone else to disembark first, wanting to be a little behind the rest of the students. During the journey, he had been incredibly lucky as not a single person entered his compartment, leaving the space all to himself to enjoy. The solitude allowed him to take a long nap, which was a nice change from the usually rowdy voyage back to school to which he had grown accustomed over the past six years. Even still, while he loved having the room to spread out and the freedom to not worry about anything, he was a bit upset that no one came to say hello, not even his Ravenclaw friends Greta and Xenophilius, both of whom he had seen often during the early portions of the summer.

Yawning, he got to his feet, grabbed his things, and exited the compartment. He followed the short line of students out of the train, and then stretched his arms up in the air as he stepped into the summer heat, feeling the warm breeze that was rushing through the Hogsmeade station. In the distance, he saw Hagrid wave hello and he waved back in response, but unfortunately, he couldn't go and speak to his large friend as the half-giant was already corralling the first years into one large group. Instead, Harry walked over to the carriages that would take him up to Hogwarts castle, searching for one that was empty.

"Dumbledore," A familiar voice said from behind, making Harry spin on his heels to see who it was. There, not a few feet away, stood Bellatrix Black, giving him a small smile, apparently happy to see him. In the month that they had not seen each other, she had grown nearly an inch and her hair was longer, being just lengthy enough to reach the small of her back. She had it pulled back into a neat ponytail, a change from her usual down and straight look that she wore.

"Black, what do you want?" He questioned with a large grin, happy to see her just like she was him. He moved to give her a hug, but stopped as the other Slytherins came gliding up behind her with scowls on their faces, making him wonder whether she wanted them to know about their friendship or not.

"We'll talk later," Bellatrix whispered with a wink as she and the Slytherins entered one of the carriages, leaving Harry to find his own carriage. He continued down the line of carriages, finding each one occupied by second and third year students, people that Harry knew would one day become the parents to the children he had gone to Hogwarts with in his own time.

After some searching, Harry found the carriage that was filled with many of his seventh year mates. They all said hello, but each seemed to be too tired to string together a sentence just yet, a fact that would be rectified with the big feast that was in their immediate future. Following the short trip up the path, they arrived at the castle, and Harry took a deep breath as he stepped out of the carriage, the realization that this was the last year at Hogwarts cropping up into his mind. Silently, they all walked into Hogwarts as a group, and soon enough, Harry found himself sitting at the long house table of Ravenclaw.

The Great Hall was decked out in the colors of Hogwarts, with the draperies and linens of each of the four houses hanging from the rafters. There were bronzes and blues, greens and silvers, reds and golds, and blacks and yellows, all representing the many traits and characteristics of the respective houses. The ceiling showed a brilliant late summer day, with a blue sky at sunset and little to no clouds of which to speak. The teachers at the front of the hall were all wearing wide, bright smiles as they waved to some of their students, glad that a new year of Hogwarts was just beginning. Harry's gaze moved over the teacher's table, and he immediately saw Professor Moonshine, which made him smile in happiness, relieved that she was doing better and had made it back to Hogwarts safely after her run in with the Death Eaters. Further down the line, he saw Pomona Sprout, the witch he knew as the head of the Hufflepuff house and the Herbology professor with a wide smile on her face, apparently being appointed to full-time professorship after the last Herbology professor, Herbert Beery, retired from Hogwarts entirely to teach at the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts fulltime.

"Harry!" Greta Catchlove chirped loudly, earning Harry's attention, as she and Xenophilius Lovegood took a seat at the Ravenclaw table next to and across from Harry respectively. With her hair blonde and short, and her face rosy, she was a pleasant witch with a happy demeanor, whose very presence made many around her more cheerful. "It's great to see you."

"Hi guys," Harry replied, reaching his arm around Greta's shoulders and giving her a small hug. She returned the gesture, wrapping her arm around his lower back, pulling him closer to her and squeezing him tightly. "It's good to see you both."

"I tried finding you on the train, but I couldn't." Greta informed him, pulling back from the hug. She looked at him disappointedly, curious as to where he was on the train, or even if he was on the train at all. "I wanted you to sit with us. Where were you?"

"I was in the last cart," Harry replied, biting his lip, a bit comforted that his friends had actually attempted to find him, unlike what he had previously believed. "Like fourth compartment from last."

"Xeno!" Greta scowled, staring over at the blond-haired wizard, who was listening to the exchange from his seat on the opposite side of the table. "I thought you said you looked there."

"I did," Xeno said with a shrug, apparently not really worrying about it. "I must have missed him for some reason. Wrackspurts may have infected my brain this summer, which could explain it. I saw a nest of them behind my house about a week or two ago." He added, referencing the wrackspurt, which according to legend was an invisible creature that was able to infect people's brains, making their thinking fuzzy as a result.

"Good job," Harry smiled, knowing that Xenophilius probably did believe that wrackspurts had infected his brain. "I heard that wrackspurt infections have been going around lately. We should all be careful."

"Don't mind him," Greta shook her head in exasperation, seeing Xenophilius gazing off at the Gryffindor table. "He's love struck with that girl he fancied last year."

"So I see," Harry noted, presuming the Gryffindor girl at issue would become Luna's mother, as she looked a lot like Luna, minus the specific color of her blonde hair, which Luna had inherited from her father. "And what about you, are you still together with Milton?"

"Yes," Greta replied, peeking over Xenophilius' shoulder and seeing the Hufflepuff table, where Milton Curd was laughing with his friends. Then, looking back to Harry, she frowned and shook her head in seeming disappointment, her demeanor changing from what it had been a minute prior. "I met his mother this summer, Gerda, she hates me."

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked with a cocked eyebrow, wondering why such a nice girl would think someone disliked her.

"Well, she kind of made fun of my goal, you know, to write my book," Greta whispered, referencing her charm cookbook that she intended on authoring, which would help nascent magical cooks better their culinary skills by using magic. "She said that Milton deserves better than some witch who fancies herself a muggle cook."

Just as Harry was about to respond to Greta, he was interrupted by a booming voice and his gaze was drawn to the front of the hall. "Welcome one and all to a new year at HogwartsSchool for Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore's voice bellowed as a large, jovial smile took shape on his aged and lined face. He looked as potent as ever to Harry, having an aura of calmness that was near palpable, which was a much needed quality in a world filled with darkness and evil. "I hope you all had a safe and wonderful holiday. Let the sorting begin!"

As the first years were sorted, Harry disinterestedly gazed around the Great Hall, where his eyes fell upon his mother, whom gave him a smile in response. He smiled back, and watched as she went into a vivid discussion with a brunette witch that Harry did not know. Moving his vision down the table, he looked over to a group of Gryffindor boys that were quietly whispering amongst themselves, and he couldn't help but see his father and Sirius, whom he believed were crafting some prank that they would play soon enough.

He briefly wondered what exactly they were doing, and then remembered that they had accomplished their animagus transformation around their sixth year. _There's my answer_, he thought to himself, an even larger smile appearing on his face. He didn't know if they were animagi just yet, or if they were still finishing their work on it, but he knew that eventually they would be and they would have their dangerous adventures with Remus as a werewolf. When they were having those adventures, Harry hoped to be able to get a peek at his father's form, wanting to see with his own eyes how close his patronus actually was to it.

"Herald McGonagall," Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor, called out for the next student to step forward, earning Harry's attention away from the Gryffindor table. A few whispers ran through the hall, each student wondering if the pair had any relation to one another. Harry stared up at McGonagall's face, trying to see if he could figure it out through her reaction, but her countenance revealed nothing, not a smile or a grin, though Harry did not know if that signified that she was not related to the boy or if she just didn't want to reveal anything.

Harry's watched as the hat took a few minutes to decide Herald's house, but eventually, it bellowed out, "Gryffindor!" As a result of the hat's proclamation, the Gryffindor table cheered and clapped, welcoming the newest member into the fold. Harry's eyes followed Herald as he took his seat at the table, noticing that the boy acted nearly identically to Professor McGonagall in his mannerisms, a subtle sign of their kinship with each other. Shaking his head, Harry continued to watch the sorting, welcoming in whatever new Ravenclaws came to the table in an effort to help their transition, remembering how nervous he was when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

"First years, as I'm sure the older students can attest, I want to warn and inform you that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to anyone not accompanied by a member of the Hogwarts faculty." Dumbledore's voice came once the sorting was complete, looking over to the new students of Gryffindor, whom throughout his long years at Hogwarts he had noticed always had a knack of getting into trouble. "Additionally, while the dark times we find ourselves in may seem endless, do not fear, for as long as you are under my protection, no evil can get to you." Dumbledore smiled at the students, hoping to ease their nerves should they have any. "Oh, and I would like to add a few words, and they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you and let the feast begin."

Food instantly appeared on the tables, a wide assortment of meats, vegetables, starches, and sauces, all for the students to enjoy. Jugs of liquids also appeared, ranging from crisp water to sweet pumpkin juice, a common drink in the wizarding world. "What did you do this summer, Harry?" Derrick Jordan asked interestedly, piling mounds of mashed potatoes onto his plate as if it was candy.

"Just hung around," Harry answered, grabbing a roll from the basket and ripping it in half to eat. "I got my apparition license, met some nice people, did some work, it was great. What about you? Did you do anything fun?"

"About the same, I played quidditch a lot, though." Derrick agreed with a shrug, inwardly considering himself lucky that he did not have a run in with any Death Eaters. As a pureblood, he was safe, so long as they remained unaware that he and his family did not believe in blood superiority, which was a belief that he kept especially guarded as a result—at least for the time being, while he was still in Hogwarts and unable to truly protect himself. "I can't believe this is our last year at Hogwarts."

"Me neither," Harry replied with a sigh, as sadness stole over him, knowing how deeply he would miss Hogwarts when he left. "I still remember when I first walked through those doors, I didn't know what to expect. Heck, when I saw Hogwarts from the boat, I had never seen anything in my life so big before that."

From his spot next to Derrick, Bertram Aubrey silently listened to the conversation between the pair, raising an eyebrow at something that Harry had said. "It was only last year, of course you remember," Bertram reminded Harry, entering the conversation for the first time.

"Oh," Harry laughed it off, inwardly scolding himself for almost slipping up. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Did you get to pick your house or were you sorted like the rest of us?" Gaspard Shingleton questioned, wondering how Harry ended up in Ravenclaw, not having witnessed it himself like he would the first years.

"I was sorted privately during the summer," Harry recalled, referencing how he was sorted in the confines of the Headmaster's office an hour or so after arriving in the past. "It took a while for the hat to sort me, which was interesting considering that I thought for sure he would put me in Gryffindor."

"Why did you come to Hogwarts, anyway?" Derrick asked, grabbing the boat of gravy and dumping it onto his potatoes, making what seemed to be a volcano. Harry watched as Derrick played with the volcano, briefly wondering whether Derrick was going to eat the potatoes or he had just intended on creating the volcano.

"Why didn't you guys ask me any of this last year?" Harry laughed, trying to stall to think of something to say. After all, he couldn't just say, 'oh, my old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who just so happens to be a werewolf, sent me twenty years into the past', could he?

"We didn't really know you," Bertram shrugged indifferently, admitting that he had basically ignored Harry the previous year. "We wanted to learn about you, rather than annoy you with stupid questions that you may not answer in the first place."

"I see," Harry nodded in understanding, not upset by that answer—it was the truth, after all. "I came because I wanted to be closer to my family." Harry lied, aware of the fact that a lot people wanted to be closer to their families because of Voldemort. Many wizards and witches in the country did not know if they would come home and still have a family due to the terror of the Death Eaters, which Harry knew was a rampant fear while the wizarding world was at war.

Derrick furrowed his brows, trying to remember whether Harry was Dumbledore's grandson or an entirely different relation. "And Dumbledore is what again, you're great-uncle?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, taking a bite of his food as his stomach growled in hunger. He chewed it for a few moments, enjoying the taste, before he swallowed it down with a sip of water. "And Hogwarts is much safer than my last school, so it works out better for me."

"Which was?" Derrick prodded, wondering which school Harry had attended before Hogwarts.

"Not one of the big ones," Harry answered, realizing how foolish he was to even mention a former school. He remembered the time when he was in Hogsmeade with Greta and he had told her he went to a small school in mainland Europe so he made sure that his answer this time coincided with that previous one just in case Greta and Derrick mentioned it to one another in the future.

"I thought Europe only had the three," Bertram shook his head, turning his attention to a conversation that Greta and a few other sixth year girls were having across from him.

Eventually, after the students had their fill of food, the feast ended, and as Harry made his way out of the Great Hall, he heard a voice calling him from behind. He turned and smiled at the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall, who was walking towards him, her lips pursed. "Mr. Dumbledore," She said with a curt nod, polite but not too warm just as Harry remembered. "The headmaster would like to see you in his office."

"Sure," Harry nodded, more than willing to meet with the headmaster. "Does he want to see me right now?" Upon seeing her nod, he bid his friends goodbye and made his way towards the office of the headmaster, where he found the stairwell already down, apparently in anticipation of his arrival. He headed up the circular staircase and gave a slight knock on the opened door to announce his presence.

"Ah, Harry, good to see you," Dumbledore said, looking up from his work. From his perch behind Dumbledore's desk, the phoenix Fawkes gave out a sound of hello to Harry, following in his master's footsteps. "Come in, come in," The headmaster said, gesturing for Harry to walk further into the office.

"Good to see you too, sir." Harry replied with a smile, taking a seat in the chair that was in front of Dumbledore's desk. "It's good to see you, as well, Fawkes." He added, looking up to the brilliant phoenix, who stared down at the wizard, as if understanding what he had said.

"Did you have a good summer?" Dumbledore questioned, wanting to ease in to what he called Harry there to discuss, all the while putting his quill in its holder and capping the ink bottle.

"Absolutely," Harry nodded his head, a contented grin appearing on his face. "Speaking of which, I wanted to thank you for the gift that you gave me for my birthday, it was brilliant." He said in an honest tone, taking his pocket watch out from his pocket and showing it to Dumbledore.

"Have you figured out how it works yet?" Dumbledore smiled, knowing it would take even the smartest of wizards weeks to understand—it took him the same amount of time to figure it out upon receiving his from his mother back when he turned of age in the late 1800s. A Dumbledore family heirloom, it was a pocket watch that not only told its wearer the time, but also the time that his or her next appointment was, the time that they should go to bed for the best rest, and additionally told the wearer more esoteric things, like how they were feeling at that current moment, among others as well.

"No, not yet," Harry shook his head in the negative, only being able to tell time with it, rather than any of the lesser known options. "But eventually, I'll get it."

"Eventually," Dumbledore agreed with a nod, admiring Harry's confidence. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a small silver tin, not bigger than a muggle wallet. "Would you care for a sherbet lemon?" He asked, opening the tin and offering its contents to Harry.

"Thank you," Harry replied, reaching in and grabbing a piece, before popping the small yellow candy into his mouth. His face twisted slightly at the sourness of the treat, but it passed almost immediately and became a sugary sweet sensation on his tongue.

"You know, in the States, they call these lemon drops," Dumbledore informed Harry, before he too took a piece and placed it in his mouth. He savored the taste, enjoying the brief interlude that conversing with Harry gave him from his war with the wizard named Tom Riddle.

"I didn't know that," Harry replied interestedly, staring at Dumbledore, thinking about what to say next as they silently enjoyed the candy. "I've never been there. Do you travel there often?"

"I'm not able to travel as much as I would like, given the circumstances," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the window and, presumably, the outside world, where Voldemort and his gang of thugs known as Death Eaters were spreading fear throughout the country. "But I am good friends with the headmistress of the Salem Institute of Magic, and she often sends me the treats as a present. She always teases that the proper name is lemon drop, not sherbet lemon, which elicits a spirited debate between us. My belief is that it's a different candy altogether, but alas, the dispute still rages." He relayed with a smile, recalling fondly his relationship with the headmistress. Just then, Fawkes gave a sound out that Harry could only describe as a hoot, which gained the attention of Dumbledore. "Alright, alright, Fawkes, here you go." The headmaster laughed, taking a piece of the candy out from the tin and tossing it up to the phoenix, which nimbly caught it in his beak and swallowed it in one gulp.

"Likes sherbet lemons, does he?" Harry grinned in appreciation, knowing how intelligent of a bird Fawkes could sometimes be—he vividly remembered the time the pair shared in the Chamber of Secrets during his second year, cognizant of the fact that if wasn't for Fawkes, he would have died and Tom Riddle would have been reborn.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore nodded, having learned about Fawkes' affection for treats when the pair first formed their bond decades prior. "Speaking of Fawkes, I want to thank you for writing to me this summer. It was good to hear from you, and Fawkes certainly enjoyed collecting and delivering our letters as it allowed him to get out and stretch his wings."

"I enjoyed seeing Fawkes, as well." Harry said, recalling how Fawkes and Hedwig would share in owl treats whenever Fawkes would apparate into his room at the Leaky Cauldron in a flash of flames.

"Apparently so," Dumbledore noted, noticing the bond that Harry and Fawkes were developing, which was unusual for Fawkes as he didn't take to many strangers. Then, seeing Harry looking at him expectantly, he continued, "As I am sure you are wondering about why I brought you up to my office, Harry, I will answer that question immediately." Dumbledore whispered, giving Harry a small, aged smile that held so much wisdom and joy for life. "Now that you are of age, I feel that we can finally discuss what I saw inside your mind when you first came to my office one year ago without giving you any undue burden that a wizard your age does not deserve."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, having wanted to discuss it with Dumbledore for a while. He wanted to use what he knew about the future to the benefit of the Order of the Phoenix, to put it to good use in saving the lives of countless of individuals, both muggle and magical.

"And because we have much to discuss now that you are of age," Dumbledore spoke, his face losing his characteristic smile and his demeanor turning more serious. "I intend to hopefully, with your acceptance of course, see you every Wednesday night. Consider it personal teaching lessons from your old headmaster."

"Absolutely!" Harry answered in a happy tone, thrilled to have the opportunity to work with the older wizard. He knew he had a lot to learn, and by being tutored by the great Albus Dumbldore, the greatest wizard of the age, he knew he'd learn all the things he needed in order to defeat Voldemort once and for all.

"In those sessions, we will talk about your traveling to this time, happenings around the country, as well as some magic that I know you'll be interested in learning," Dumbledore explained, wanting to flesh out what he intended on doing with Harry.

"I'm excited," Harry smiled, thrilled at the opportunity to be taught by Dumbledore and eager to begin. "What do you want to know?"

"There was a prophecy, yes?" Dumbledore questioned, and upon seeing Harry's nod, he continued, "What did it say exactly?"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies." Harry recited the prophecy word for word, the memory of that fateful night in Dumbledore's office forever ingrained into his mind. It was the night that changed his opinion of himself, morphing from a normal boy who had been attacked as a child by mistake to one that was destined to fight the darkest Dark Lord of recent memory.

Dumbledore furrowed his brow, going over every sentence, every word, trying to gather precisely what it meant. "And what do you think that says?" Dumbledore questioned, wanting to know what Harry thought of the prophecy, knowing that the boy probably had a different idea about it than he did.

"Well," Harry pondered, looking over to Dumbledore, trying to voice his beliefs as accurately as he could. "Basically that I have to either kill him or he'll kill me and become invincible."

"It's not like that, my boy." Dumbledore shook his head in the negative, not wanting Harry to think that he didn't have a choice in the matter. No matter the prophecy, no matter how definitive it may seem, a prophecy could always be wrong because people had free will, they had the right to choose what to do with their lives, a fact that Dumbledore was all too aware. "You could have always walked away from it, Harry, and Voldemort would have been defeated some other way in your time."

"I've already made my decision not to walk away, though." Harry replied in a resolute tone, unwilling to give up his vendetta against Voldemort—the Dark Lord would go down even if it was the last thing he did.

"That prophecy does not exist in this time, not yet at least, but you still wish to defeat him on your own?" Dumbledore asked in a somewhat surprised tone, astonished by Harry's moral compass and caring nature—it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Harry's ability to love was the complete antithesis to Voldemort's inability to love, making the pair opposites from one another in a poetic way.

"Of course," Harry nodded in decision, knowing that he wouldn't have it any other way at this point. He had not cloistered himself off from the outside world, ignoring news about the war and abstaining from gazing at the Daily Prophet, reading and learning everything he could over the past year in an effort to better himself as a wizard to stop now: he would help Dumbledore defeat Voldemort anyway he could, even if he had to face Voldemort directly himself. "I can…I can still see what he sees, feel what he feels, sometimes when my mental defenses are at their weakest, when I'm asleep. I've prevented this by learning Occlumency as best as I can, but if I drop my mental defenses, even for a single night, I enter his mind without intending or desiring it."

"Yes," Dumbledore spoke in a hushed tone, as he furrowed his brows a bit in thought in an attempt to give Harry an answer. "The magic that connects the two of you is, in my opinion, unfathomable. Even I, in all my admitted cleverness and smarts cannot figure out how you two are still connected, even though Tom Riddle has not marked you in this time." Dumbledore opined, before his gaze moved to an instrument on a table across the office, which gleamed in silver brilliance as moonlight bounced off of it. "Unless…" He whispered, flicking his eyes over to Harry, specifically the lightning bolt-shaped scar that was on the boy's forehead. While everyone else saw Harry as the person with green eyes speckled with blue, brown hair, and no lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, Dumbledore always saw Harry for who he really was via his magical half-moon spectacles, which he had enchanted to allow him to see through weak glamours and enchantments such as the ones placed on Harry.

"Unless what?" Harry questioned, raising an eyebrow, wondering what the great wizard was thinking.

"I'm not definitively sure yet," Dumbledore admitted, and then seeing Harry's face, he motioned with his hand, knowing exactly what Harry was feeling at that moment. "I will tell you when I know, but right now, it's just a passing idea that may have some weight, one which I do not feel confident about enough to publish."

"Okay," Harry nodded in understanding, willing to be patient for the time being. While Dumbledore had been secretive in the past, an action that had both angered and disappointed him, he knew that it was for a reason those times and he did not doubt Dumbledore's reasoning in this case—it was just an idea that Dumbledore needed to contemplate some more before revealing. "There are things that you left me from my real time; I've been going through them since I arrived." Harry started slowly, not really knowing what Dumbledore wanted to do with the information accumulated so far. "Trying to figure out what they mean, why you left them to me, and how you thought they would help me defeat Voldemort. You also left me some memories, but I haven't viewed them in my pensieve yet."

"Oh," Dumbledore raised an intrigued eyebrow, interested in what Harry was left by his future counterpart. "And what are the items about?" He questioned, inwardly hoping that the information may reveal something about Tom Riddle's past after Hogwarts, an all too elusive subject as Dumbledore had found out over the years.

"Something called horcruxes," Harry replied, making Dumbledore's eyes go wide, as if the older wizard had won a great prize. Harry had never seen the expression on Dumbledore's face before, save perhaps the time when Harry returned from the graveyard in his fourth year and he thought he saw a triumphant gleam in the headmaster's blue eyes after informing him that Voldemort had used Harry's blood during his revival, a curious response that Harry did not understand still.

"Horcruxes, you say?" Dumbledore questioned, trying to keep his composure, trying to keep the immense relief that he was feeling from overcoming him. He knew that Tom Riddle had sold himself out to the darkest of dark arts, the most evil of all magicks, but to hear it from someone who could definitely tell of its truth was something that would help him immeasurably, as it would allow him to start the search for the horcruxes in earnest. He couldn't search for them before then due to the fact that he didn't know if they were real or not, and he did not have the time to waste in searching for imaginary items, should Voldemort not have used horcruxes in his quest for immortality. While he had gathered fragments of Voldemort's life before and after Hogwarts from eyewitnesses of various important events, there were very few people who knew about Riddle's life at all, and even less that were still alive after having had a run in with Tom Riddle, which made it hard for him to truly do some research on the subject and gather the information that he needed.

"He had seven of them in my time, but by the timeline that your notes have laid out, I gander that he'll only have four by now." Harry said, having meticulously gone over Dumbledore's notes to figure out a timeline of how and when Voldemort created his horcruxes. He still had yet to understand what exactly a horcrux was, but he knew that it dealt with a specific object and killing someone.

"Seven? That's what he meant by 'I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed…'" Dumbledore muttered in thought, losing himself in the memory from over two decades prior that had Tom Riddle returning to Hogwarts to ask for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. "This is news that I have not previously thought about," Dumbledore admitted, having always assumed that Voldemort would have no more than two or three, which was already pushing the soul to the breaking point as it was. "I want you to continue reading whatever notes from me that you have been reading. Of course, do not let it get in the way of your studies, but by the looks of it, you have been handling it quite nicely."

"Do you want to see the notes for yourself?" Harry questioned, believing that Dumbledore reading the notes would be more productive than him reading them by himself.

"Not yet," Dumbledore shook his head in the negative, understanding of the fact that Harry was left the notes for a reason and he had yet to fulfill that reason. "I want you to go through them all first and then we will discuss it."

"Okay," Harry agreed, knowing that he still had things to learn and figure out, such as what Dumbledore's scribble of ancient runes in the Tale of the Three Brothers had meant. What significance did 'deadly relics' have to Voldemort or the story itself? Further, he also needed to learn what exactly a horcrux was, as every time he looked for the term, his search came up fruitless.

Just then, there was a knock on the door and a man appeared, one that looked familiar to Harry, but he couldn't quite place the face. "Ah, is it that late already?" Dumbledore questioned, giving the newcomer a welcoming smile. "I'm sorry to cut this short, Harry, but I must take this. Let's say we meet up here immediately after dinner next Wednesday?"

"Very well, thank you, professor." Harry said, rising to his feet and readying himself to leave. "Goodbye, sir."

"Bye, Harry," Dumbledore nodded to the younger wizard, having appreciated the time spent with him. Then, remembering something, he said, "Wait, I have your potion for this month. I believe you know what to do with it." He spoke cryptically, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a vial of a milky white substance before handing it over to the younger wizard.

"Thanks," Harry replied as he tucked the vial into his robes, securing it until he took it later that night. He gave the newcomer a polite nod and exited the room, closing the door behind him in an effort to give some privacy to the two occupants. Before walking down the stairs, Harry looked back at the door, trying to figure out the identity of the newcomer. He had a rather bland face, with unmemorable features and relatively common looks, which made it difficult for Harry to remember who it was or even where he remembered him from. After a few moments of thought, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, giving up without success. "Oh well," He whispered to himself, taking a few steps forward until he reached the stairway and started the walk downwards to the hall below.

As Harry stepped off of the stairwell that went up to the Dumbledore's office, he was hit in the chest with a paper airplane that was folded from a piece of white parchment. Unrolling the plane, he saw that it was a note from Bellatrix, telling him to meet her at the classroom that they had used for their lessons together. With a large grin forming on his face and a hop to his step, he headed towards the classroom and arrived minutes later, where he found Bellatrix already sitting on a desk, waiting for him come. Harry walked in and took a seat next her, hopping up onto a desk, with his feet dangling an inch or so from the floor. They stayed silent for a few moments, each being comfortable with the other, something that Harry had noticed a couple other times they were with each other.

"Did you enjoy your time at the Leaky Cauldron?" Bellatrix started, staring at the wall across from her, not meeting his gaze yet. She had sent him the airplane in an effort to see him secretly, unwilling to allow the other Slytherins to see her meeting with him for his own safety. She knew that many in her group disliked him for his duel with Rodolphus during the previous year, and she doubted those feelings had subsided much over the summer.

"It wasn't that bad, believe it or not. I met some nice people, some strange people, and some people I never thought I'd meet, so it was fun. I had a lot of time to work, which was nice, too." Harry grinned, having thoroughly enjoyed his summer and its relatively peaceful environment. Barring the attack on Diagon Alley, he spent many a day with friends, and the rest working on his magic, reading the many books that were left to him through his inheritance from Sirius. "What about you, did you like your sister's wedding?"

"It was pretty," Bellatrix nodded in the affirmative, thinking back to a few weeks prior, when she watched her sister marry Lucius Malfoy. It was an elegant affair, with beautiful scenery and extravagant decorations that dazzled those who attended the wedding, which were all wealthy pureblooded families like the Blacks and the Notts or otherwise powerful Ministry Officials. "Well worth the galleons it took to pay for it, I think. That Malfoy estate makes the Blacks look poor."

"I bet it does," Harry sighed, knowing how Draco always bragged about how rich and wealthy his family was in an effort to make Ron feel bad about his own family's lack of a fortune. He remembered how Lucius had bought Draco's spot on the Slytherin quidditch team by purchasing the entire team the state of the art Nimbus 2001s, which individually cost more galleons than many families had in their entire vault.

"They have peacocks just walking around on their land," Bellatrix informed Harry, recalling the large white peafowl that she saw immediately upon entering the gated estate. "I guess that's what happens when your family was the reason why William the Conqueror became King of England in the first place. The Lestranges were involved in that too, now that I think about it, but they don't have peacocks, last I checked."

Harry grinned as she rambled, happy that she was opening up to him more than she ever had before. He didn't know if it was a common occurrence and she consistently went off on tangents with her friends, or if it was special for him, but either way, he enjoyed it. "What's that about William the Conqueror?" He questioned with a cocked eyebrow, wondering what made her bring that up.

"I'll tell you about it later," Bellatrix shook her head, not wanting to discuss it at that moment. "It has to do with each family trying to outdo each other, so I hear stories about who did what and when they did it all of the time when I have to tag along to parties with my parents. Anyway, were you there when the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley a week or so ago?" She asked, wanting to know if Harry was present or not, having both read about the attack in the Evening Prophet and heard about it personally from a few Death Eaters with whom she was acquainted.

"Yes," Harry nodded in the affirmative, sighing a bit at the memory. "I fought a few of them off myself, it was terrible. I knew a lot of people who were injured or actually died."

"Oh," Bellatrix said, not really knowing where to go with that. She was interested in the subject only to make sure he wasn't hurt in the attack, not because other people were injured themselves. "I'm glad you're safe then."

"Me too," Harry agreed with a smile, though still a bit bothered with the other deaths that he had witnessed. He had spoken with many of the victims the very day of the attack while buying everything for the school year, so their perishing was especially troubling to him, perhaps more than they would be to another person. "Or else I wouldn't be able to bug you all this year."

Bellatrix smirked at that, turning her head towards him and finally looking up into his green and blue-speckled eyes. "I thought about you all summer long, especially after I left you on your birthday." She muttered, being honest with her feelings for the first time in her young life.

"Oh yeah, did you?" Harry questioned, raising an intrigued eyebrow, trying to prevent the smile that he knew was forming on his face. He hoped that she would say something like that to him, which justified the same thoughts he had about her.

"Did you?" She asked back in a voice that Harry couldn't help but think that her walls were down, that her heart was open.

"Very much," Harry answered, leaning back onto his desk, relaxing a bit. "Before I came to Hogwarts, I never would have thought I would have though, if I'm being honest with myself."

"Hm?" Bellatrix asked curiously, confused by what he had meant by that. She hoped that he didn't mean what he was implying, that he didn't feel the same way about her that she did him.

"What time do we have to be in the common rooms?" He questioned, looking at her, a plan forming in his mind. If he was going to go through with pursuing her, in trying to be with her for real, he was going to do it right. _And in order to do it right_, he thought to himself, _I have to do this first_.

"I'm not certain, but I think about an hour and a half or so, why?" Bellatrix replied, wondering why he was acting strangely all of the sudden. She had just revealed to him that she thought about him near constantly during the summer, which basically amounted to her admitting her budding feelings for him, yet he seemed to want to change the subject completely.

"Will you do me a favor?" Harry asked, his gaze staying on Bellatrix, who nodded quizzically in response. "Meet me up on the seventh floor in the left corridor, across from the troll tapestry in twenty minutes, okay?" She nodded tentatively, and with a smile, he jumped off the desk and rushed out of the room, leaving her to her own devices. Shaking her head in utter confusion, she continued on her rounds for the night, before making her way up to the seventh floor, where Harry had told her to meet, a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach in anticipation for what was about to happen.

A/N: Everything will change after the next chapter. The entire dynamic of the story is going to transform all because of the next chapter, and many of the people that have reviewed, asking me about something, are going to have their questions answered. Next chapter is going to be confusing, but I'm going to work hard to try to limit the confusion. Be ready for it. Any ideas on what Harry plans on doing?


	23. Revealing Memories

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: In case anyone missed it, those sherbet lemons that Dumbledore gave to Harry last chapter were the same ones Harry gave to him in chapter 12, "Happy Christmas (War is Not Over).

S/N 2: This chapter's been a long time coming. It comes perhaps a tad quicker than I would have liked, but in order to have the pacing remain consistent it needs to be done sooner than later.

Chapter 23: Revealing Memories…

Harry exited the Ravenclaw common room ten minutes before he was to meet with Bellatrix with a small stone basin nestled in his arms. He headed up to the seventh floor, where he was unsurprised to see Bellatrix waiting for him, a confused look on her pretty, pointed face. Harry grinned at her and, without saying a word, started to walk back and forth in the hallway three times, thinking about a small, cozy room for them both to enjoy with plushy chairs and comfortable couches. _I need a mirror, too_, he thought, hoping that the room would supply him with a mirror in order to perform what he wanted. Sure enough, upon completion of his third pass, a highly polished door popped up on the stone wall across from the troll tapestry, making Bellatrix stare at it in a mixture of uncertainty and wonder.

Harry seized the brass handle and opened the door, gesturing for Bellatrix to come, which she tentatively did. The pair walked in together, Bellatrix not knowing what to expect, and saw that the room was a small den with a fireplace on one wall, a few couches on another, a wooden coffee table placed in between the couches, and a full-length mirror in the corner. A small fire roared in the fireplace, its light flickering and dancing on the far wall as the flames crackled in its pit, illuminating the entire room. The couches were of a deep blue that was relaxing and easy on the eyes, similar to the ones that were found in the Ravenclaw common room, albeit perhaps more comfortable looking. Overall, Harry noted, the room was exactly what he asked for and even better than he imagined.

"What is this room?" Bellatrix questioned as her gaze studied every inch of it, having never seen such a thing in Hogwarts before. She noted the colors of the room were Ravenclaw's, and briefly wondered whether the room was connected to the Ravenclaw common room in some way as she had never seen it and did not know where its entrance was located.

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Harry answered knowingly, having become acquainted with the room from his days leading Dumbledore's Army during his fifth year. "It answers a person's need and transforms into whatever that person wants. If you ask for something, so long as magic can provide it, it'll be there, even if it is almost impossible to believe."

"Is this a secret room or something?" Bellatrix asked, her eyes gazing about the area in fascination. She had no idea such magic existed, let alone in a relatively normal hallway that she had traveled through a few times during her Hogwarts life. While great magic existed within the halls of Hogwarts castle itself, this was above and beyond anything she had experienced—she had seen stairways move, portraits moan, and hallways slide, but she had never before witnessed a room appear from nowhere.

"Yes, it is," Harry replied with a smile, unable to take his eyes off of her, watching as she studied everything about the room. She had grown up so much since he had last seen her that she looked like an entirely different person almost, a fact that he had noticed immediately upon seeing her by the carriages hours prior.

"What?" She questioned with a raising a suggestive eyebrow, seeing his lingering gaze. She turned towards him and stared back, a small smile playing on her lips.

"You've changed," Harry said, shaking his head, not wanting her to know what he was thinking. Her facial features were even more pointed, apparently having lost whatever left over baby fat that she had on her pretty, and already previously skinny, face. While she had always been quite stunning in Harry's opinion, which he realized only after he actually took the time to look at her, she was now even more so, and Harry was struggling to keep his eyes off of her.

"How?" She asked, wanting to see what Harry would say, knowing that he wasn't the most articulate of people. She had noticed the sideways glances he had given her when they were in the classroom a half an hour beforehand, his unsubtle looks of attraction that proved to her that she had his attention.

"You look…" Harry shrugged, unable to find the words that could finish that sentence. He broke out in a large smile, incapable of holding a straight face as she continued to stare back at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"I'm going to assume that the ending to that sentence is something good," Bellatrix said with a narrowed gaze, making Harry squirm in fear a bit. "And if that's the case, I do believe that's the first compliment you've ever given me, if I'm not so mistaken."

"At least that makes one of us," Harry replied with a wry grin, recalling their numerous Occlumency sessions. "I'm still waiting for my 'you were a great Occlumency student, Harry.'"

Rolling her eyes, Bellatrix turned her attention back to the room, still amazed at the magic. "How did you find it?" She questioned, wondering how a person could find a room that had to be summoned by walking by it three times. Who in their right mind would decide to randomly walk back and forth in the hall three times without having at least an inkling that something would result?

"That's kind of why we're here. There is something, something that I think you should see." Harry started slowly, placing the stone basin down onto the table that the room had provided. He stayed silent for a few extra seconds, trying to make sure that he chose his words carefully, knowing how much of an impact they were going to have. "I don't know if I should be showing you this, especially not so soon, but something inside me says that I should and my gut has never steered me wrong yet…well, that's not true, it has steered me wrong once before, but that's actually another reason why we're here. The truth, Bellatrix, is that I did think about you during the summer. Every single day I thought about you, but likewise, I also thought about my godfather, and whether my thinking about you betrayed him and betrayed everything he did for me."

Bellatrix almost smiled at what he said, but then heard the rest, and a frown took shape on her face. "What do you mean?" She asked, curious as to what his godfather had to do with her.

"Do you know what this is?" Harry inquired, gesturing to the pensieve that rested on the table in front of him. It was about the size of a cereal bowl with ancient runes carved around its circular edge, which Harry knew to be similar to the much larger one that Albus Dumbledore had in his office, and was made from a dark stone that shined in the firelight. He touched the bottom of the basin, and shivered when he felt that it was cold and slick like an eel's body, which allowed the memories to circulate through the basin more easily.

"I've seen one before, but I don't know what it does." Bellatrix admitted, taking a seat on the couch and looking at the pensieve with an inquisitive expression. While they weren't too common in the wizarding world, she had spied one in her grandfather's home when she visited him once during her youth before Hogwarts, though she never asked him what it was or what it did.

"This is a pensieve; it allows you to view memories and thoughts from a third person perspective." Harry informed her, explaining how the magical device worked and how useful of an object it was. "The magic of the pensieve shows you what the memory was in its entire truth, so if you missed something in real life, you can come back and see it in the pensieve."

He had used the pensieve often during the summer, both in his studies and in his leisure time. In order to better his dueling abilities and learn from his previous mistakes against Frank Longbottom, he had extracted the only memory he had of a true duel between two accomplished wizards, the one that he had witnessed in the Ministry atrium that pitted Albus Dumbledore against Lord Voldemort. He watched the duel more than a few times, all the while noting each spell that both wizards had performed, making an effort to research them and find out what they were. He could only find out of a few dark curses that Voldemort had performed and a few of the charms that Dumbledore had done like the Raising Waters charm that encased Voldemort in a bubble of water, which he presumed was because of the unnatural skill that both men had and their usage of ancient magic that not many knew.

The other times he had used the pensieve was when he missed Hermione and Ron, his best friends from his own time. Being alone most of the summer without companionship, he would sometimes stay up late thinking about them because he missed them so dearly. While they weren't perfect, far from it actually, with Hermione's bossiness and Ron's jealously, they were always there for him for the most part and had experienced so much with him that he sometimes longed to talk with them once more. He enjoyed his new friends, Edgar and Xenophilius especially, but no one could or would take Ron and Hermione's place since they were his first true friends, the ones that he entered the wizarding world with when he was eleven years old. As such, feeling nostalgic many a night, he used the pensieve to view fond memories of Hermione and Ron every so often, only a few times, but each very meaningful nonetheless.

"What memory are you showing me?" Bellatrix questioned cautiously, wanting to know why she was there and why he was still acting so strangely. It felt to her that he was hiding something great, but what it was she had no idea and couldn't even give an educated guess on the matter.

"For a little background, Voldemort," Bellatrix inhaled deeply at Harry saying the name, her eyes wide in shock, but Harry ignored it and continued. "Has just fallen for the first time, and the Aurors are working around the clock to capture all of the Death Eaters." He said, as he took his wand and held it to his temple. Hoping that he knew how to do it properly like he thought he did (since he was going to show her a memory of a memory), a thin stream of a silvery substance came out of his head, and he brought it down into the pensieve, allowing it to swirl inside the basin. He repeated the action once more, adding another memory to the basin, this time of a more personal sort.

"What, when did this happen? Who beat him?" Bellatrix gasped in shock, squinting at Harry, watching as he toyed with the pensieve with his wand. How had she not heard this in the papers? Or even from her parents? Surely the Slytherins would have spoken about it if he had been beaten, wouldn't they? How had she gone this long without knowing anything about the Dark Lord's downfall? And what did he mean by 'first time,' had the Dark Lord fallen once before that she did not know about?

Harry bit his lip, looked down at the floor, and then back up, gazing into Bellatrix's violet eyes while butterflies fluttered in his stomach. "I did." Bellatrix furrowed her eyebrows, confused by what he had meant. "I'm a time traveler, Bellatrix. My name is not Arold Dumbledore, it's actually Harry James Potter, and I'm the son of Lily and James Potter." Harry explained slowly, knowing how shocking of a revelation it was—it wasn't every day that you found out a person that you had gotten to know over the past year was from the future.

"You're the son of Lily and James Potter? You mean, no, you can't mean that Lily girl and James Potter, the sixth years? Those annoying Gryffindors, you mean?" Bellatrix said, a large smile on her face, thinking Harry was kidding, that he was playing some sort of joke on her.

"Yes, that's exactly who I mean. I was and will be born on July 31, 1980, a few years from now in a sleepy little town called Godric's Hollow." Harry said, revealing the night that he was born, which was a little less than four years away. Then, seeing her skeptical face, he sighed, realizing that if he couldn't talk her into believing him then he would have to show her. He got to his feet and walked over to the mirror that was in the corner of the room, taking his wand out as he stood in front of it, having expected he would need to do this prior to entering the Room of Requirement.

"What are you doing?" Bellatrix asked, watching his every move, as if she was now suspicious of him. Truthfully, she didn't believe him, and she was hesitant to understand why he would make up such a fabrication as time traveling.

"Proving it to you," Harry whispered, looking back at her through her reflection in the mirror. "I spent the first half of the summer learning this spell, charming the mirror in my bathroom at the Leaky Cauldron to show my true self."

"True self?" Bellatrix mumbled, falling further and further behind what Harry was talking about. She had heard about time travel via a Time-Turner before, but the most a Time-Turner could send a person back was a day or two, not to a time previous to a person's own birth, which added considerably to her skepticism.

"I got the idea from an ancient artifact named the Mirror of Erised, which shows not your reflection, but your heart's desire. After days of reading books that seemed to be older than Hogwarts itself, I finally found a spell that would help me out, a spell that allows people to see a person's appearance, regardless of any enchantments, glamours, or charms they may have on them." Harry went on, recalling the days he spent in his trunk, searching for something that would help him. While he could allow his glamours to fall, he did not want to do that, as it would be a nuisance to Dumbledore to have to redo them again. "A lot of exceptionally powerful people put it on glasses or the like, which allow them to see under a person's infiltration techniques. Not all of them, mind you, but enough that it's certainly helpful."

"I've never heard of the Mirror of Erised," Bellatrix said in a quiet voice, trying to follow along with Harry as best as she could. She was a very intelligent girl, one who that was rarely unable to understand someone or something, but Harry's story wasn't making any sense to her. "I guess you really did work on your magic this past summer."

"That figures." He gripped his wand tightly, and tapped the mirror with the tip of his wand, muttering a spell that Bellatrix did not recognize. He then dragged his wand all across the mirror, the glass glowing a dull blue all the while. "This will show you what I want it to show you. Hopefully, that is." He looked over to Bellatrix, and gestured with his hand. "Come here and stand next to me, and you'll see what I actually look like."

"What you actually look like?" Bellatrix whispered, reflexively taking a step backwards, as if to put more distance between herself and Harry. She stood there for a few seconds, staring at him with a look on her face as if he had a kneazle sitting on his shoulder, pawing at his ear.

"Dumbledore had to transfigure my hair and my eye color just so I didn't look too much like my parents." Harry said honestly, before noticing that he was beginning to freak her out a bit. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you all this at one time."

"No," Bellatrix shook her head, regaining her composure. She took a few steps forward, nearing Harry enough that she could see her own reflection in the mirror. "I want to see what it is in Merlin's name you're talking about." She said, taking one last step forward and looking at Harry before moving her eyes over to the mirror, where Harry's image was reflected.

She stared at him through the mirror, looking at his reflection, studying his every feature. She immediately saw the difference between the man she saw in the mirror and the man she saw next to her, the one that she had come to know over the past year. His facial structure was the same, with his eyes being the familiar almond shape and his nose being on the smaller side. His hair, while the same length in general, was not the brown that she had grown accustomed to, but was instead jet black and unruly, and was long enough to fully cover his lightning bolt-shaped scar, though Bellatrix did not know this. His eyes were a brilliant green color, losing the blue speckles that they normally had. Finally, his skin was lighter and paler, a shade below the darker tone that the spells seemingly gave him. Overall, she had to admit, he was quite handsome, regardless of the form he took—though she was more taken with his natural one, as James Potter was a good looking wizard in his own right.

"Your hair, it's messy and black. And your eyes, oh your eyes, they're…green and beautiful." Bellatrix recited softly, having seen those eyes before whenever she would see Severus Snape conversing with Lily Evans in the halls. "You look exactly like James Potter, except for those eyes."

"I told you," Harry grinned, hoping that she was taking it okay. While she was handling it poorly prior to seeing him in the mirror, he hoped this revelation would ease the process, rather than push her further away and make her more skeptical.

"I like you better looking this way," Bellatrix admitted, keeping her gaze firmly on his reflection. She had to admit, she found Harry attractive in either form, but this one just seemed more fitting of his personality for some reason, though she had no idea why she came to that conclusion. "You're cuter and you look more natural."

"Thanks, I guess," Harry laughed with a cocked eyebrow, amazed by her sudden change and that she was handling this so coolly, though he assumed that she probably thought he was still kidding. "I have to take this once a month in order to keep my appearance," Harry informed her, showing the vial of potion that Dumbledore had given to him an hour prior. He uncorked the vial and downed the milk-like liquid, before putting the cork back into the top and pocketing the vial once again. "If I don't, the effects wear off and my true self is shown for all to see." He finished, gesturing to the person that was reflected in the mirror, his normal appearance.

"You do look almost identically to James Potter, it's amazing" Bellatrix muttered in disbelief, seeing how that would be hard to explain if he didn't camouflage himself—should his story turn out to be true, that is.

"With my mother's eyes," Harry nodded in agreement, having heard since the moment he walked into the wizarding world that he looked exactly like his father, but had his mother's eyes

"Yes," Bellatrix granted, continuing to stare into the mirror and into Harry's eyes as he stared right back. They gazed at each other for a few lingering moments, before she broke the eye contact and shook her head. "I…I can't believe this. I don't believe this." She said, turning around and taking a few steps away from Harry, a look of confusion on her face.

"Understandable," Harry replied in an even tone, knowing how fantastical it was to hear about time travel and glamours. Truth be told, if the shoe was on the other foot, he doubted he'd believe her story just like she doubted his. "Do you want to see the rest of what I wanted you to see or do you want to stop for the night?"

"You can show me whatever you want to show me," Bellatrix said, spinning around and facing Harry, where she saw him with green eyes speckled with blue, straight brown hair, and a more tanned complexion. "You wanted to show me some memories, did you not?" She inquired, gesturing over to the pensieve, which still sat on the coffee table where Harry had originally placed it, silver memories swirling in the basin.

Harry suddenly got the profound feeling that she was only goading him along to get everything out of the way, as if she wanted to swallow it all at once, rather than piece by piece. Did she not believe him? Did she think of him as some raving loony, like many thought Luna Lovegood was in his own time? Or did she believe him, but just didn't really care about it? Harry didn't know, but he doubted very much that she didn't care, as he knew what it took for her to open up to him in the classroom beforehand, something that she did not do often. Even still, even with knowing that she most likely did care, he was skeptical about continuing, not wanting to ruin whatever it was that they had before it even started. Additionally, he was starting the question the wisdom of showing her the memories, realizing that they could hurt him if revealed to someone that would use them against him.

"About them…I don't know if I should. You see, you were, well, frankly, you were the second person I hated most in the world, right behind the Dark Lord." He said quietly, gulping down the lump in his throat, showing her just how nervous he was. His mind racing, he walked over to the pensieve and stared down at it, raising a questioning eyebrow, trying to decide if he wanted to go through with it or not. "In my time, you are his number one, his lieutenant and his most loyal Death Eater."

Bellatrix blinked at what she had heard, unable to think of a way to respond to it. _He hated me_, she thought to herself, her insides twisting in emotion. Then, as suddenly as it came, she swallowed her pain and hardened herself back up. "I am?" Bellatrix replied stoically, wondering how she became so devoted to the Dark Lord, should Harry's story be found to be true. While she agreed with the Dark Lord's opinions on blood purity, it still came as a bit of a shock that she showed so much devotion to him that she was exalted above all others, including the many capable and loyal Death Eaters that she knew, like Rodolphus and Rabastan's father, Rodel Orinn Lestrange.

"You are," Harry replied, deciding to move forward with his plans, knowing that he would deal with any repercussions for his actions should they show themselves. He reached down and took her hand in his own, holding it for the first time, interlocking their fingers with one another. Instantly, he noticed that they fit perfectly together, though he did not mention it, instead focusing on what he was there to do.

He brought his face down into the swirling silver substance, which was neither liquid nor gas and looked very much like shiny glass, and just as his face entered the basin, they both were gone from the room. Immediately, they lurched forward and fell into the pensieve, falling through blackness as if sucked into a whirlpool. When they landed, Bellatrix noticed that she was not in the Room of Requirement any longer, and scanned her surroundings, trying to figure out where she was. She let out a gasp of shock when she saw that they were, in fact, in a Wizengamot proceeding, something that she had witnessed the few times when her father had brought her to the Ministry when she was a child.

The place was more of a dungeon than a room, with benches raised high in the air that encircled the four chained chairs that were in the center of the room. Unlike many lighter rooms, the chamber had a bleak and foreboding air, a seriousness that manifested throughout. There were neither pictures nor tapestries on the walls, and the light that filled the room was from torches hanging from the ceiling, clearly being underground. The atmosphere was quiet and somber, broken only by the sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the center seat of the benches. She had a small handkerchief in her hands, which she used to dab at her eyes, apparently emotional about what was to come.

"Bring them in," said a man that Bellatrix knew to be Barty Crouch, the pureblooded Head of the Department of Magical Law. Her eyes shot to the door in the corner, which opened as six dementors entered, flanking a group of four people—she immediately recognized three of them, one of them being herself; she was older than she currently was, but Bellatrix could not tell by how much. She watched herself being forced into one of the chained-chairs and then use the chair like a throne, as if she was proud to have been dragged in front of all these people, to what Bellatrix understood to be a trial of some sort.

"You have been accused," She heard Barty Crouch say, as her eyes darted between the accused and the prosecutor. She tried to read their faces in an effort to decipher just what it was that they had done—however, the only face that showed any kind of emotion other than apathy or disdain was the youngest-looking one, who was staring wide-eyed up at the Wizengamot.

"Father," She watched as the wide-eyed prisoner called out, visibly more fearful of his potential fate than the others were combined. He seemed to be the youngest of the group, with his pale and freckled skin, straw-colored hair and chocolate brown eyes; he seemed to be no older than the age of 19.

"That's Barty Crouch, Jr!" She exclaimed, recognizing him for the first time, having seen him a few times in the halls of Hogwarts: he was an intelligent, talented wizard, who was quiet but confident. "You know, the fourth year Ravenclaw, right?" She questioned, looking over to Harry as he nodded in agreement, standing next to her and studying her as she watched the memory. "Rodolphus," She gestured to a thickset man, who was staring up at Crouch blankly, apparently steeling himself off from all emotion. "And that's Rabastan." She finished, nodding her head to the thinner Lestrange brother, who was looking between all the members of the Wizengamot, now more clearly nervous about the impending trial and possible punishment than he had been moments before.

Barty Crouch continued on with the preceding, ignoring his son's pleadings. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror—Frank Longbottom—and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked Barty Crouch, Jr, a fervency to him that was noticed by the entire courtroom. "I didn't, I swear it, father, don't send me back to the dementors."

"You are further accused," bellowed Mr. Crouch, still ignoring his son's desperate pleas of innocence, his futile entreaties of guiltlessness. "Of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, Alice, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong. I now ask the jury—"

As Crouch listed the charges, Bellatrix watched her memory counterpart all the while, seeing as she smiled at each passing accusation that Crouch alleged upon her. Bellatrix didn't know what it was, but she could see in her eyes that she wasn't the same as she was in the present, that something was different, off so to speak. It was weird seeing herself in chains, bounded and imprisoned for a crime that she had no idea about, giving her a surreal feeling that she couldn't quite describe. Her eyes flicked over to Barty Crouch, Jr once more when he changed tactics and directed his pleas towards his mother, who was sobbing quietly next to her husband, unable or unwilling to look at her son.

"I now ask the jury," Crouch shouted over his wife's sobbing, moving forward with the trial rather than pausing to allow her time to regain her composure. "To raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban prison!"

The younger Bellatrix's breath hitched in her chest when she heard that proclamation, and she looked towards Harry, who just bit his lip in response. Her eyes moved over to the faction of witches and wizards to the right of Crouch that all raised their hands in unison, agreeing that life in Azkaban was a suitable punishment for the group. The crowd witnessing the procession began to clap, their faces full of savage triumph, all happy that the Dark Lord was destroyed and his Death Eaters incarcerated. Immediately following the punishment being levied, the dementors glided back into the room, and Crouch Jr. began to scream once more, frantically trying to escape the imprisonment that was to come.

"No! Mother! No, I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know!" Barty screamed, as he and the others were lifted from their seats, the unworldly strength of the dementors easily allowing them to impose their will against the group of wizards and the witch. They hovered for a few moments, holding the prisoners tightly in their grip, as if waiting for an order from the senior Crouch.

Bellatrix watched as the older her looked up to Crouch with her heavy-lidded eyes, and screamed in a voice of primal madness, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, we will wait! He will rise again and he will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters. We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!" Just as the older Bellatrix's screams echoed throughout the chamber, Crouch sneered and she was taken through the doors and led away from sight by the dementors, presumably heading immediately to Azkaban prison.

The younger Bellatrix kept her eyes on the door, going over what she had just witnessed in her mind. She couldn't say that she didn't recognize the woman in the memory, after all she knew herself better than anyone else did, but she was surprised she slipped that deeply into her frenzy. She wasn't ashamed of herself, not really at least, instead she was just…surprised. What made her most surprised was that she admitted to the world her loyalty to the Dark Lord, instead of using her cunning and trying to escape punishment in order to search for the Dark Lord to restore him to power. It seemed outrageous to her that the traits that made her a Slytherin, her cunning and resourcefulness, was seemingly forgotten in an instant and blind madness took its place.

Suddenly, as she was lost in thought, the memory dissolved in front of her eyes, leaving a dark space where the courtroom once was. It felt to her like her vision had been stripped from her, leaving a void of blackness in its place as if she was wearing a blindfold. For a time it was so dark that she couldn't even see her hand in front of her eyes, and she instinctively reached out to Harry, before pulling back and keeping her hands by her side. She waited patiently where she stood, wondering what was happening but not at all concerned, knowing that Harry wouldn't leave her alone in the pensieve.

"Fourteen years later, a few months after Voldemort returned, you escaped from Azkaban with nine other of your comrades, including Rodolphus and Rabastan." Harry's voice cut through the darkness, as he waited for the next memory to show itself. The memory swirled and turned completely gray, before the surroundings appeared once more, this time changed from the Wizengamot proceeding that they had previously experienced. "This is the last time I saw you," Harry whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat, knowing that he would see Sirius die again soon, a memory that still gripped his heart with its cold reach. "You were trying to steal the prophecy that foretold the battle that Voldemort and I will inevitably have."

"Oh," Bellatrix replied simply as a younger Harry came into view in the memory. He looked exactly as he did in his reflection of the mirror, lending credence to Harry's story in Bellatrix's mind, perhaps meaning that he was indeed a time traveler from the future. He was a few inches shorter and less defined, still with a bit of baby fat that he had not yet lost and an innocence about him that was stripped with age, but very much identical to how he appeared in the reflection. He had a jagged, lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, and she looked up at the Harry that was next to her in an effort to see if it was still there, but she could not see it and she wondered where it went as she had not noticed it in his reflection in the mirror either.

They both watched as Harry and a group of teenagers, which Bellatrix presumed were his friends, ran down the aisles of the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. The rows held orb upon orb, some of which were dimly glowing with a weird white light from within, while the rest laid dull and dark like a blown out muggle light bulb; even so, all of them held their secrets inside for the subject or subjects prophesized to hear. The memory flashed forward, and all of the sudden, Harry's group of friends were standing in front of a specific prophecy that was labeled: Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter.

Black shapes emerged out of thin air all around the group, appearing as if they undid a disillusionment jinx or some other charm that had made them invisible. Bellatrix watched the exchange between the wizard she recognized as Lucius Malfoy and Harry with apt attention, now slightly understanding where Harry's apparent dislike of the man had come from if the scowl that formed on his face at the mere mention of a Malfoy was any clue—she immediately recalled that day in the library months before when she had told Harry that her sister was marrying Lucius Malfoy. "The Dark Lord always knows!" She heard a female voice scream out, and she immediately recognized it as her own; it was older and more hoarse, but hers nonetheless.

"I want to know where Sirius is!" She heard the younger Harry say in response, making her cock an eyebrow up at the older Harry that stood next to her. _Does he mean_ _Sirius Black_, she thought to herself, wondering if that was who they were talking about.

"I want to know where Sirius is," The older Bellatrix mimicked after closing in around Harry and his friends along with a few other Death Eaters, threatening the younger wizards and witches. "The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," The Bellatrix within the memory spoke, making the real Bellatrix cringe when she heard herself speak in a mock-baby voice, a piercingly shrill tone of voice that was particularly annoying. Like she had done in the previous memory, Bellatrix focused on herself, seeing the aged lines on her face and the thinness of her frame, clearly affected by a lengthy stay within the confines of Azkaban prison. After a few more passing words between Harry and Lucius, she watched as her older self raised her wand and tried to summon the prophecy from Harry's hands, only to be blocked by Harry summoning a shield in an effort to protect himself. "Oh, he knows how to play, little bitty baby Potter."

"I TOLD YOU NO!" Lucius Malfoy screamed, throwing a scathing look at the older Bellatrix, who growled under her breath in response.

"You need more persuasion?" The older Bellatrix said, her chest rising and falling rapidly, angered by the petulance of the children in front of her. "Very well—take the smallest one. Let him watch while we torture the little girl, I'll do it."

The memory flashed again, which found the younger Harry standing in front of the older Bellatrix, a look of disgust on her face. "Shut your mouth!" She shrieked, apparently angered by something that Harry had said to her. "You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood's tongue, you dare—"

"Did you know he's a half-blood too?" Harry interrupted, appearing confident to the younger Bellatrix, though the Harry next to her knew inwardly that he was anything but confident while he spoke. His mind at the time, the older Harry knew, was raddled with what could only be described as fear as he tried to think of ways to get his friends out of the danger that he had put them in. "Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a muggle—or has he been telling you lot he's a pureblood?"

Bellatrix did not get to hear their response to that assertion as the memory flashed again, turning gray before materializing in front of Bellatrix's eyes once more. They were in the same spot, but time had clearly passed as the positions of the people had changed. "Why couldn't he come and get it himself?" She heard the younger Harry question, making her wonder who he meant by 'he'? _Did he mean the Dark Lord?_, she thought to herself, assuming that she was correct in her guess.

"Get it himself?" shrieked the older Bellatrix, cackling madly, as if her mind had long since been unhinged. "The Dark Lord, walk into the Ministry of Magic, when they are so sweetly ignoring his return? The Dark Lord, reveal himself to the Aurors, when at the moment they are wasting their time on my dear cousin?"

"What?" The younger Bellatrix questioned, looking over to the Harry next to her, not following along with the memory. The memory jumping was beginning to confuse her, as she didn't have enough information to fill in everything that was missing and she could only make the most flimsy of guesses.

The memory paused, as Harry turned towards her, having full control over memory to do as he pleased. "The night my parents were killed, the night Voldemort was destroyed for the first time, Sirius Black went after the one who betrayed them and was caught. The Hit Wizards and the Ministry thought it Sirius who had destroyed a muggle street and killed a bunch of muggles, but it was actually someone else, so he was sentenced to life in Azkaban even though he was innocent. Later on, Sirius managed to escape Azkaban all by himself, and at this moment in time, in the memory I mean, the Ministry was trying to say that it was Sirius causing all this trouble, rather than acknowledge that Voldemort had returned." He tried filling her in on all of the background information as best as he could, though he knew that it was a lot to take in all in one go—it was confusing even to him.

"Sirius escaped from Azkaban? He escaped on his own, by himself?" Bellatrix questioned slowly, having never thought that was possible. Being a small island in the middle of the North Sea and surrounded by miles of water, and enchanted with more wards than Hogwarts itself, it was impossible to apparate or portkey into, and with the addition of the dementors, the prisoners themselves were imprisoned in their own minds, enhancing the security even further, which made it quite an achievement for Sirius to escape in her opinion.

"Yes," Harry nodded in the affirmative; a sense of pride swelled inside of him, though it was quickly gone when he remembered just what memory he was going to be viewing soon. "He was the first and only person to ever do that in the history of Azkaban. My godfather is a powerful wizard."

"This is confusing." Bellatrix muttered, though gestured for Harry to continue. _Sirius is his godfather?_, she thought to herself, somewhat surprised at that revelation as Sirius was irresponsible and unworthy of such a distinction in her opinion. She furrowed her brows in an effort to understand why thinking about her would betray Sirius, recalling that Harry had told her that fact prior to entering the pensieve, which was apparently the entire point of watching the memories in the first place.

"You'll be seeing Sirius soon, unfortunately." Harry whispered as the memory changed once again, transforming from the Hall of Prophecy that they were in just moments before. When the memory took shape, Bellatrix noticed that this time they were in room with a stone steps that encircled a large dais that held a tall archway with a ripped veil that swayed in the wind. Harry understood it to be the room of death, the chamber where Harry and his friends were saved by the Order of the Phoenix when the Death Eaters had finally cornered them. In its regular use, the Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries utilized the chamber to study death, and all things connected to the world beyond the veil.

Bellatrix's attention was drawn high above them, where two doors burst open and five people sprinted into the room. Harry knew them all as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, powerful members of the Order of the Phoenix that were alerted to the danger that Harry and his friends were in and had come to rescue them. "Who are those people?" Bellatrix questioned, looking over to the Harry that stood next to her; she only recognized Sirius, though he was much older and gaunter than the way he was when she had last seen him.

"Members of the Order of the Phoenix who came to protect me and my friends," Harry answered sadly, bracing himself for what he was about to see. "The Death Eaters had us surrounded and threatened to kill one of us if we didn't give them the prophecy."

Bellatrix nodded and turned her attention back to the memory, trying to follow along with the non-linear story of recollections. They watched as Malfoy turned and raised his wand in an effort to take down the newcomers, but Tonks had already sent a stunning spell right at him. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step toward the floor. Eventually, the Order members reached the bottom and bolted off to duel the Death Eaters, taking on whoever they could in an effort to protect the teenagers.

Just as she had turned her gaze towards a duel between an old man and a masked Death Eater, the memory flashed forward, and now they watched as Harry was standing in front of Antonin Dolohov as the Death Eater crept towards him. Suddenly, Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder and sent him flying out of the way. "Harry," Sirius yelled, and the real Harry knew what was about to happen, remembering the order of events as if they had transpired just hours before. "Take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" The wizard finished, dashing off to meet the older Bellatrix in battle, his wand held tightly in his hand.

"It's about to happen," Harry gulped in apprehension, staring down at the floor, having not seen this memory since he originally witnessed it in person. He felt so hopeless, forced to watch it without being able to do anything, when all he wanted was to be able to warn Sirius, to tell him to not be overconfident and guard himself more.

"What is?" Bellatrix questioned, gazing over at him with a confused look on her face, not understanding what he was referencing. His voice was of a low whisper, a tone that Bellatrix understood to mean that something important was about to take place.

"The moment where you became the person I hated second most in the world," Harry answered honestly, still believing that he was doing the right thing by showing her the memories he had of her. He wanted to show her how much history they had, even though they had yet to actually become anything, in an effort to explain why he was so standoffish to her when they first met. While he knew and understood that the friendship they had was tenuously fragile, he firmly believed that this would strengthen it and lead to something great. "Watch the duel between you and Sirius," He whispered with a gesture towards that opposite side of the room, informing Bellatrix about the real reason he decided to show every memory he had of her.

Bellatrix did as she was told; watching as Sirius and her older counterpart sent curses and spells at one another, she was astonished to see them dueling with such vigor that she couldn't help but feel impressed by their (and her own future by proxy) abilities. They dodged, ducked, and parried, with Sirius seemingly joyful that he had the upper hand, as evidenced by the fact that he mocked and chided her all the while. They tossed spells and curses back at one another, filling the room with a myriad of bright colors and loud blasts. There was a noise to the side that drew the younger Bellatrix's attention, and she looked over to where everyone was staring and saw for the first time a much older Albus Dumbledore than the one she knew framed in the doorway at the top of the stairs, looking furious and powerful.

The old wizard sped down the steps, past the memory Harry, brandishing his wand as he surveyed the room. Just as he reached the bottom step, there were loud yells from the Death Eaters, all clearly fearful of the great wizard and each knowing that, no matter how skillful they were, they were not capable of defeating the wizard that even their master was hesitant to battle. As one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrambling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite of Dumbledore, a spell from the headmaster pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible fishing line, preventing any such escape. The hooked Death Eater was pulled back into the center of the room, where he was immobilized by invisible chains, captured and forced to stay on the ground.

As Dumbledore began his effort to corral the rest, Bellatrix turned her attention back to the only couple that was still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. She watched as Sirius ducked under a blast of red light from her older self's wand, earning a bout of laughter from the wizard. "Come on," Sirius yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room like a singer's would in an opera house. "You can do better than that."

Bellatrix continued to watch the duel, seeing the older version of herself scowl angrily and launch another curse at her cousin. The jet of red light flew swiftly through the air and hit him squarely in the chest; while the laughter had not quite died from his face, his eyes were widened with shock. It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall in Bellatrix's opinion, his body curving in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch that was in the center of the room. Bellatrix saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on her cousin's wasted, once-handsome face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and fell back into place. She waited for Sirius to get up, but the veil stayed motionless, as if Sirius had just disappeared.

"Sirius!" The memory Harry yelled in desperation, as the older Bellatrix let loose a triumphant scream. In the memory, Harry's gaze moved around the dais, searching frantically for Sirius' body just as Bellatrix had done moments prior, though like she before him, he found nothing. "Sirius!" Harry yelled once more, visibly losing himself in emotion.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry," A raggedy man that Bellatrix did not know said, holding Harry back with his arms. "It's too late, Harry."

"We can still reach him!" Harry bellowed, disbelieving that there was nothing they could do to save Sirius. To Harry, Sirius had simply been hit with a red jet of light, not the instant death of the Killing Curse, which meant that he could be revived, that he could come back.

"He's gone…he can't come back, Harry." The man said sadly, reaffirming his previous statement that Sirius was dead. While he held Harry back, his eyes drifted over to the veil, and Bellatrix could see emotion welling up in his eyes just the same as Harry's, as if he too had been affected by Sirius' death.

From her position watching the memory take place, Bellatrix turned and looked over to the Harry that was next to her, seeing the heartache and pain on the wizard's face. Silently, she moved her gaze back to the memory, and as Dumbledore rounded up most of the other Death Eaters, she watched as her future self downed a large black man, who had taken over the duel for Sirius, with a curse that erupted out of her wand with a loud bang. The man yelled out in horror, seemingly in excruciating pain from where the curse that had hit him as he writhed around on the ground. With her duel won, the older Bellatrix turned and ran as she saw Dumbledore whip around and aim a spell at her.

Bellatrix watched as her older counterpart managed to deflect the spell, and just as she was halfway up the steps, the Harry from the memory ripped his arm from the raggedy man's grip and jetted after her. "She killed Sirius! She killed him, I'll kill her!" He bellowed out in fury, clearly overcome with rage as he chased after Sirius' killer.

The younger Bellatrix continued to watch as Harry ignored the shouts behind him and rushed after the older Bellatrix, unrestrained fury radiating off of him. He chased her out of the door and through the hallways, until they reached the atrium and she stopped running, forcing him to crouch behind a statue and wait for his opportunity to confront her. "Come out, come out, little Harry," The older Bellatrix called in her mock-baby voice, which echoed off the polished wooden floors. "What did you come after me for, then? I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin!"

"I am!" The younger Harry shouted, righteous anger consuming him. As she watched the memory transpire, Bellatrix saw the anger in his green eyes, immediately noticing that it was something that she had never seen before from the Harry that she knew. From her perspective, he seemed like a generally calm and collected wizard: snarky and irritable, and unable to leave his emotions out of things for the most part, but seemingly capable of venting his anger before it boiled out. _Perhaps_, she mused to herself, _that this was what made him realize the dangers of being controlled by anger, and while he had learned to control his rage, his other emotions were not so contained_.

"Aaaaah…did you love him, little baby Potter?" The older Bellatrix mocked, angering the memory Harry even more. The real Harry watched, knowing that this was just as an embarrassing memory for him as it would be for Bellatrix since he knew he was about to break the law and lower himself to the standards of a Death Eater. Sure, the reasons for that were much different than the Death Eaters reasons, but that didn't matter—he had willfully performed an Unforgivable.

"Crucio!" Memory Harry yelled in a rage-filled tone, making the older Bellatrix scream as the spell knocked her off of her feet and down to the floor. She did not writhe around in pain, however, and she was almost immediately back upon her feet, breathless and no longer laughing, but okay nonetheless.

"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" She yelled, this time abandoning her baby voice, clearly not having fun anymore. "You need to mean them, Potter. You need to really want to cause pain—to enjoy it—righteous anger won't hurt me for long. I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson—Crucio!" The curse missed its intended target, instead blasting off the arm of the centaur. "Potter, you cannot win against me. I was and am the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, I learned the dark arts from him, and I know spells of such power that you, pathetic little boy, can never hope to compete."

"Stupefy!" The younger Harry roared, coming out of his hiding spot from behind the centaur's legs and releasing a jet of red light. He took a few steps closer to her, confronting the one who created his anger, the one from whom he sought revenge.

Seeing the face that Bellatrix was making next to him, Harry suddenly stopped the memory, understanding that it was starting to affect her in a way that perhaps wouldn't be beneficial to him. Quickly, he grabbed her hand, and with a swift thrust upwards, they appeared outside of the pensieve once more, back in the confines of the Room of Requirement. Harry released her hand when they landed, taking a few steps away from her and studying her reaction. Her face was blank as she stared down at the pensieve, the silver memories still swirling in its basin.

"I can't believe that was me." Bellatrix whispered after a few minutes of silence, staring at the pensieve unblinkingly. She questioned it all: his appearance, what she had seen, and especially how someone was able to come back in time like Harry apparently had done. To her, it was unthinkable, and she didn't know if she believed his story, though she couldn't fathom a reason why he would lie to her about it. "I'm surprised that I did all of that."

"Yeah, you were pretty bad, insane really." Harry agreed, noting that she didn't say sorry. While he didn't expect her to feel sorrow for her actions, he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would have, though he understood that she was still processing it all.

Bellatrix gave out a small, mirthless chuckle at what Harry had said. "Heh, Andromeda always did say that I was a breath away from being insane." She replied in a strange tone, making Harry again wonder if he had done the right thing by showing Bellatrix his memories. "I should get going, it's late." She muttered, not meeting Harry's gaze as she gathered herself to leave.

"Okay," Harry nodded, awkwardly, sensing something was different about her, though he did not know what. "I'll see you tomorrow?" He questioned, hopeful that they would talk about everything some time the next day. He had shown her a lot, and he knew that she would have questions, questions that he desired to answer as best as he could.

"Sure," Bellatrix agreed with little enthusiasm, and then walked out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Did he do the wrong thing? Perhaps he shouldn't have showed her the memories that he had of her; perhaps he should have just kept them hidden away from the entire world, unable to be seen or known by anyone but him. Sighing, he walked out of the room himself, heading towards the Ravenclaw common room, intending on getting a decent night's sleep in the hopes that he hadn't just made the second biggest mistake of his young life.

A/N: Happy Halloween! I hope whoever of you were in the path of hurricane Sandy (like me) is safe and sound. Good luck. Expect chapters to be around this length from now on; additionally, expect the repercussions of Harry's actions to be explored—he was impulsive and somewhat reckless by doing what he did.


	24. The Glitch in the Plan, Stitch in Time

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: The next chapter will show the rematch between Frank and Harry, so be ready for that.

S/N 2: I've been referencing this chapter as far back as the A/N at the bottom of chapter 15, "Problems Spelling."

Chapter 24: The Glitch in the Plan is a Stitch in Time

Harry awoke a half an hour late the next morning, and after rushing to get ready for the day, he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. As he was walking into the hall, he saw Bellatrix leaving with her group of Slytherin friends, presumably heading to her first class of the day. He tried to catch her eye, but it seemed that she was too engaged in the conversation that she was having with Evan Rosier to notice him as she continued to walk without any form of acknowledgment. With a shrug, Harry took a seat at the Ravenclaw table next to a group of young first years, not thinking twice about Bellatrix's lack of saying hi; he assumed that everything was fine and she just hadn't seen him.

He poured himself a glass of juice, and reached for a muffin, ripping it apart with his hands and nibbling the top of it. He took a few bites before putting the muffin down onto the plate in front of him, and taking a large gulp of his juice. "Excuse me," One of the first years said timidly, making Harry put his glass down and look over to the group. They all nervously looked at each other, as if deciding who was going to talk to Harry now that they had his attention, before one girl slid closer to Harry, apparently the bravest of the bunch.

"Yes?" Harry asked with a comforting smile, seeing how scared they were to talk to him. Not only was he a seventh year that knew more magic than they did, they also did not know if he was nice or mean, making them especially tentative to reach out to him as a result. He remembered when he himself was a first year, and other than Percy, he too was hesitant to speak to anyone older than him just the same as the Ravenclaws seemed to be. "I'm Harry, what can I do for you?"

"Do you know where the Potions classroom is?" The girl that slid down questioned uncertainly, confused about where she and her friends needed to go. She was a small witch with black hair, tanned skin and a strong jaw, whom looked remarkably familiar to Harry, though he couldn't place the face since she was so young.

Harry smiled at the girl, recalling the many times he had trouble finding his way around the castle during his own first few months there. The castle of Hogwarts was a near-sentient place, with its hallways changing on a whim (but usually easily enough to spot) and the rooms themselves moving every so often, making it exceedingly difficult to learn the floor plan in the first year of attendance. "You remember how to get to the main stairs, right?" Harry asked, and upon seeing her nod, he continued, "You simply walk down to the bottom level, known as the dungeons, and then head down the hall that will be on your left. It'll be the second door on your right, about fifty feet from the stairs."

The girl nodded enthusiastically while Harry talked, making an effort to remember every detail that he relayed to her. "Thank you," She replied happily once he was finished, sliding back over to her friends with the news.

"Did you find out, Hestia?" Another Ravenclaw questioned, asking whether the girl was able to get the directions they needed.

_Hestia,_ Harry thought to himself, _Hestia Jones, the Order of the Phoenix member?_ He continued to watch her for a few select moments, noticing how she did indeed look like a younger Hestia Jones, before the group of younglings went running off, presumably to their first ever Potions class. Briefly, he wondered how he had missed her at the Welcoming Feast the previous night, but then remembered that his attention hadn't been brought back to the sorting until the letter M had already been reached, a few letters past J for Jones. With a large grin on his face at seeing another person he knew, Harry plated himself a spoonful of eggs and a lump of potatoes, and dug into his food quickly, realizing that he was running a bit late for class himself.

Finishing his breakfast, Harry raced off to his first class, Herbology. He arrived just before the bell rang, saving himself from detention, before taking his spot next to Bertram Aubrey. The class was rather uneventful, but Harry was grateful for that as it allowed him to ease back into the swing of school. Unlike the previous year, where he had been paired off with Alice Prince (mother of Neville Longbottom) for assignments, this time he had been paired up with an unusual Gryffindor wizard named Tilden Toots, who literally had three green thumbs as a result of an unfortunate potion accident the previous year. Harry had no details about what had happened and had no idea if magic couldn't fix him or if the boy had decided to keep them because he thought they were cool, but if Harry was to wager a guess, he'd bet that it was unfixable as he recalled Mr. Weasley pointing out a man that had horns on his head due to a charm going awry back in his own time, which proved to him that magic couldn't always fix things. However, in spite of Tilden's regrettable misfortune, Harry quickly learned that Tilden was quite good in Herbology, the best in the year in fact, which gave him hope that he could slack off a bit to focus on other subjects and still manage a passing grade.

As he was walking back to the castle from the greenhouses after the class was finished, Harry saw Bellatrix speaking with a group of Slytherins. He discreetly waved to her, a quick gesture with his hand, but again she did not respond, making Harry's heart sink, now knowing for certain that she was indeed ignoring him. "Is she mad at me?" He asked himself quietly as he passed a group of second years and entered the Ravenclaw common room. Shaking his head, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and trudged up to his bedroom, wanting to take a nap before his afternoon class.

That night, Harry made his way down to Hagrid's hut, having been invited by the half-giant to enjoy a cup of tea. They talked about a wide variety of topics while the kettle boiled, each liking the other's company, a fact that made Harry especially happy since it had been Hagrid who had become his first friend and introduced him into the wizarding world. Hagrid asked about Harry's summer, with Harry questioning the half-giant about his summer in return. While Harry had been forthcoming with his summer happenings, he had received very few answers in response to his own questions as Hagrid's summer activities were mostly Order things, which made the half-giant blusteringly change topics whenever it came up. Eventually, after having a few hard pieces of cake and a couple of cups of sugary tea, Harry made his way back to the castle for the night, where he found his roommates already in bed, apparently tired from their first day of classes. He silently sat in his bed, looking longingly out of the window next to his nightstand, giving out a large sigh as he tried to figure out how he could rectify the situation he found himself in with regards to Bellatrix.

The weekend passed rather quickly with Bellatrix still not talking to Harry or even acknowledging his presence. Whenever the pair would see each other, she'd just pass him by, keeping her attention firmly on the Slytherins that were around her at the time. When Monday morning came, Harry headed off to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for the first time of the year, a class he usually shared with the Slytherins. As such, he gulped down the ball in his throat as he walked into the room, a nervousness to him that was attributed to seeing Bellatrix. Surprisingly, the classroom was nearly filled already when he arrived, with only a few seats in the front and back of the room left open. Harry stood at the door and scanned the room: Derrick Jordan sat in the back along with Xenophilius, and upon noticing that there was an open seat between them, Harry quickly occupied it, pulling out the chair and sitting down.

"Hey," Derrick said, stifling a yawn with his hand as he moved to the side to give Harry more room. He had stayed up late the previous night catching up with his friends from other houses, having gone the entire summer without talking to them.

"Hey," Harry replied, placing his bag down next to him and moving his gaze back over the room, trying to figure out why the room was so full. There seemed to be Hufflepluffs and Gryffindors in the room, a curiosity that Harry was excited about since he had thought it would only be Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the class as it was last year. His gaze saw Bellatrix sitting with Evan Rosier and Rabastan Lestrange in the middle row of desks, though she did not turn to him as she normally would—while disappointed, he didn't allow it to get to him, instead focusing on the class ahead of him. At the front of the room, Professor Regula Moonshine sat at her desk, apparently reading the Daily Prophet and doing the word puzzle while she waited for the class to start.

"Where were you last night?" Derrick asked casually, making Harry turn his attention to the boy. When he had walked into the room the previous night, Harry was nowhere to be seen, clearly having been out well past the time they were supposed to be out of the halls.

"I had to meet with the headmaster," Harry lied, not daring to tell Derrick that he had fallen asleep while reading for Transfiguration in his trunk. After all, he couldn't just say that he was in a secret room, reading books that hadn't been written yet, could he?

"Hello class," Regula Moonshine smiled, getting to her feet and walking around her desk. She was an attractive, skinny witch, short and lean, with long brown hair and pale green eyes; she was rather pleasant looking and very easy on the eyes, as many of the older boys knew. "How is everyone doing? All of your summers were good, yes?" Seeing the nods, her smile increased, happy that her students enjoyed themselves. "I'm glad to see that you are all okay."

"Same to you, professor," A Hufflepuff that Harry did not know said cheerfully, apparently much more awake in the morning than everyone else. Harry knew that most of the students loved the professor, as she was not only nice, but intelligent, knowledgeable, and willing to listen to the student's input, an uncommon trait in Hogwarts professors. Students had heard about what she did with Xenophilius' beliefs the year prior, allowing him to lecture on something he genuinely believed in, and they appreciated her for it, regardless of the fact that many thought Xenophilius' was loony and his beliefs stupid.

"Ah, yes, I barely stayed okay, but that is neither here nor there. Let's just say that I am thankful for being safe," She said, moving her gaze over to Harry, who gave a slight nod, understanding the meaning of her words. Suddenly, as she leaned against her desk with her arms crossed in front of her, her weight caused the front leg of the desk to splinter, making the desk collapse slightly. As a result, Moonshine slid off of the desk and onto the floor, landing on her wrist with a sickening crunch.

"Professor!" Many of the students yelled, jumping to their feet and rushing to her side. They all crowded around her, each staring down at her with wide eyes, everyone wanting to make sure that she was okay and wasn't hurt.

"Are you okay?" Milton Curd questioned on bended knee, looking at her with a concerned expression on his face. His gaze drifted over to her right side, which took the brunt of the impact against the floor.

"My bloody luck can't get any worse," Moonshine cursed under her breath, looking down at her right wrist—it was clearly injured, and by the looks of it, broken. Upon seeing her wrist, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to overcome the pain that was emanating from her hand. "I'm fine, students," She said, opening her eyes and gazing back up to the students who had circled around her, giving them a small, comforting smile. "I'm just incredibly clumsy lately." She reached for her wand, and then realized that it was her wand hand that was broken, which would make it especially difficult to do the magic that she needed to perform. "Can one of you help me?"

"What do you need?" Frank Longbottom questioned, grabbing his wand and readying himself to perform a spell. While healing spells were not his strong suit, as he was best with defensive charms, he was adequately knowledgeable in them to perform them should he need it. Plus, he reasoned humbly, it was in his opinion that he was the most powerful student in the room, save perhaps for Harry and Bellatrix, the latter of whom was not seemingly making a move to help like the rest.

"Just tap my wrist and say, 'episkey.'" Moonshine informed him, knowing that the spell was easy enough to complete by the young, albeit talented, wizard. "It should make it as good as new."

"Wouldn't the Mending spell work better?" A girl that Harry didn't know questioned, stepping forward and into the circle. From his spot on the outside of the circle, Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes when he heard the name of the suggested spell, remembering how it was the same spell that Gilderoy Lockhart had used in his second year to incompetently de-bone his entire arm after breaking it during a quidditch game.

"Right you are, Wainscott," Moonshine agreed, silently admitting that healing spells were not her strength, either. While she was informed enough to lecture the students about them generally, she was not a healer or a mediwitch, and as such, her knowledge was relatively limited in comparison to a genuine healer. "Would you like to do it?"

"Sure," The Hufflepuff witch known as Wainscott nodded, grabbing her wand and bending down. She gently picked up Moonshine's hand, and placed it in her lap, before bringing her brown wand up to the injured wrist. She then softly tapped the wrist, saying, "Emendo."

Instantly, Moonshine felt a hot and cold sensation run though her hand and the wrist popped back into place, restoring itself to what it was before the accident. While it still hurt Moonshine quite a bit, it was no longer broken and the pain would wear off in time just as a normal bruise would. "You're going to be a great healer in the future, Ms. Wainscott." Moonshine smiled, getting back to her feet and tenderly rubbing her wrist. "Thank you, Emma."

"My pleasure, professor," Emma Wainscott grinned, as everyone started to return to their seats. Emma sat in the middle of the room, next to a few other Hufflepuffs that Harry didn't know, directly behind Rabastan Lestrange.

Moonshine turned and faced her desk, shaking her head as she saw the reason for her fall. "I've been awfully unlucky lately, why just the other day I tripped while walking down the stairs on the third floor and nearly broke my neck. Luckily Professor Slughorn was there to break my fall, or else I think we'd be having this class in St. Mungo's." She relayed to them with a laugh, all the while gripping her wand. "Reparo," She chanted quietly, making the desk spring back into a fully repaired state at once, one that hopefully wouldn't collapse again. "Now that I'm done embarrassing myself for the day, shall we begin?"

"I don't think I've ever seen that before," Xenophilius whispered to Harry, who just nodded in response, silently agreeing with Xenophilius' statement. It was true: Harry had never seen such a thing take place before, as if a curse had been levied down upon the teacher and made everything bad happen, regardless of how slim the probability of it happening was. After all, how unlucky did someone have to be in order for the desk that they were leaning on to collapse while they leaned against it? It wasn't like she was heavy or overweight, either—she was an in shape, skinny witch, who appeared to be lighter than many of the seventh year girls in the class.

Moonshine turned her attention away from the desk, standing at the front of the class and allowing all of the students to return to their seats and quiet down after the excitement. "As you can see, I've combined the two seventh year N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts classes into one," Moonshine explained the reason why all four houses were in the same class, a rarity in Hogwarts. "It's still small enough that everyone can get the teaching they need, but large enough that we can hopefully get some real dialogue going during our sessions." She paused to gather her thoughts, thinking about how she wanted to go about what she was going to say next. "So what should we study this term? Curses, spells, jinxes, perhaps? Because this year is so smart, we went over a lot more than we should have last term—we breezed through most of the sixth year curriculum and were even able to get to some seventh year things. As such, we have a few weeks to go over whatever it is that you want, and hopefully learn things that you think are useful, rather than boring ourselves by just reading from a book."

The students all looked around at each other, breaking out into interested whispers and large smiles. "What about the history of curses?" A Gryffindor said first, raising her hand into the air, expressing her desire to learn about the most dangerous of all magic. She felt that the history of curses would be a brilliant subject to learn about since they all could potentially face many curses from the Death Eaters once they left Hogwarts.

"We can do that," Moonshine agreed, seeing the relevance and importance of such a lecture. "I suspect you'll want to hear about the genesis of the Unforgivables, and a few of the more dangerous ones, is that right?" Seeing the class nod, Moonshine resigned herself to teaching about the curses. "Very well, we'll spend the first part of this half of the school year learning about the creation of curses. Is there anything else?"

"More nonverbal spell work?" Evan Rosier questioned loudly, making Harry reflexively turn his attention to the boy's desk, but his eyes predictably drifted over to Bellatrix next to the boy instead. She did not meet his gaze, though Harry knew she could feel his stare as she blankly looked down at her opened book.

"That is also doable," Moonshine nodded in the affirmative, personally believing that many of the students could use the extra time to enhance their nonverbal skills as most of them were sub-par at the craft. "And how about I add a topic—historical duels between the dark arts and those using defense techniques, perhaps something like the epic duel between our headmaster and the dark wizard Grindelwald?"

"Yes!" Many of the students grinned, excited at that topic, having never heard about the duel before. The meager information that they had heard about it was that it was described by eyewitnesses as the greatest duel ever; a description that they hoped would prove true.

"Good, and after we are done with those subjects, we will move into the topic of this year: undoing dark charm effects and healing curses, jinxes, hexes, and beast attacks." Moonshine recited, informing the students about everything they would learn in the coming classes. "I don't have a lecture planned today, so if you want, I can open the floor up to all of you to ask me questions regarding your nonverbal spell work, and I can critique wherever it is that you are having problems."

Soon enough, the class ended, and Harry started to pack up his things. He put his book in his bag, scooped up his parchment and ink bottle, and pocketed his wand. "Harry," A female voice said from behind him as he got to his feet and threw his bag over his shoulder. He turned around to see who it was, and was surprised to see Professor Moonshine, who was standing a few steps away from him. "Do you think you can come to my office before dinner Thursday evening?" She questioned him, looking back at him curiously.

"Ah, sure," Harry nodded, wondering what it was the witch wanted to talk to him about, inwardly hoping that he wasn't in trouble for anything. She smiled and nodded her head, before walking back to the front of the room to prepare for her next class.

With a cocked brow, Harry made his way up to the door, intending on going to the Great Hall for lunch. Bellatrix silently walked by him with her group of Slytherin friends without so much as a look, earning a sigh from him as he waited for Xenophilius and Derrick Jordan to get their things together. Once his friends met him in the hallway, he headed down to the Great Hall and took a seat at the Ravenclaw table, which was situated next to the Gryffindors—the poor Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, sat scrunched in the center between the Gryffindors on one side and the Slytherins on the opposite. He quietly made a plate of food, keeping his eyes firmly on his friends, unlike what they usually did, where his gaze would move around the hall to watch the students of Hogwarts.

"I didn't know Bellatrix Black was made Head Girl," Gaspard Shingleton said conversationally, watching as Bellatrix left the Great Hall, her gold badge pinned visibly on her robes. Harry's stomach jumped at the mention of Bellatrix, and he looked down at his sandwich, a bit sick. "I thought it would be Alice, or maybe even Emma."

"She is the smartest witch in our year," Bertram replied knowingly, having sat next to the witch during the O.W.L.s, where she breezed through most of the exams, especially Charms. "She may be a snob, she may hate every one of our mates save for Derrick and Xenophilius because of our blood, may be able to curse us all into next week, may not actually talk to people outside of Slytherins, and may not be well liked by anyone, but when it comes to her grades, she's qualified enough." He added with a wry grin, aware of how that exactly sounded.

"Speaking of smartest, you know who got the most O.W.L.s last year?" Greta suddenly said, changing the subject away from Bellatrix. "Apparently James Potter did. I wish I had the talent to not do any work like he does and still get good grades."

"He's lazy?" Harry questioned, a bit saddened to hear that Snape's description of his father seemed to be true in that regard. While Harry himself had been quite lazy in his own time, it was not a quality that he admired in anyone, let alone his father, whom he had looked up to since the day he learned about his wizarding heritage and it was revealed to him that all of the stories the Dursleys had told him about his parents were untrue.

"He's pretty brilliant, but he and his mate Sirius do absolutely no work it seems like, but I don't know if I'd call him lazy." Greta answered honestly, shrugging a little, not really willing to go so far as to call him lazy. "It's actually pretty weird when you think about it, because they spent nearly every day from second year on in the library until everyone else started to study for the O.W.L.s at the beginning of last year and they just disappeared."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at what Greta had said, immediately realizing what she meant by it and why the duo had disappeared. She didn't know it, but James and Sirius were not in the library to study for their classes whenever they were seen there; instead, they were there to gather information in their pursuit of becoming animagi. Presumably, once they finally did become animagi or were ready to try the transformation, James in the form of a stag and Sirius in the form of a black dog, they had no need to spend time in the library anymore and resultantly never went there. As such, while everyone else construed that as them working hard for class during their early years of school, they were actually working on something entirely different.

"You remember when I hit them both with those dungbombs?" Bertram grinned, remembering to the time when he threw a few dungbombs at the two Gryffindors during his fifth year. The bombs had hit James in the shoulder, and created a hallway stained by a terrible smell with both Sirius and James standing at the epicenter.

"Didn't they engorge your skull for that?" Derrick replied with a cocked eyebrow, recalling that incident vividly. The smell had lingered in the hallway for weeks after that, with many students deciding to eschew it and risk being late to class by walking completely out of the way to get around it. "And you had to spend like a week in the hospital wing?"

"Ah," Bertram sighed in embarrassment, looking down at his food, his grin fading from his face all the while. While Sirius and James had received detention for it, Bertram still had spent many a night trying to get the pair back for that, but he had yet to come up with a suitable plan of revenge and was now beginning to doubt that he ever would since he was running out of time—after all, it was his last year in Hogwarts.

"What about you and Mary, how did you two do?" Gaspard questioned Greta, ignoring Bertram for the time being. While they had been friends since their first year, Bertram was an idiot in his mind; a lovable one, but an idiot nonetheless.

Greta shrugged indifferently, seemingly not as concerned with her results as most people were. Going into the exams, she had only wanted to do well in the subjects that would help her future career; she didn't care what she received outside of those. "Not bad, not great, but not bad. I did very well in charms and good in potions, which is all I was really hoping for. Mary did okay, too." She said, referencing her good friend Mary Macdonald, a sixth year Gryffindor.

"Wait, you're a sixth year?" Bertram questioned, seemingly surprised by that fact. He had thought she was a seventh year like the rest of them, what with her hanging out with Harry and Xenophilius and being the girlfriend of Milton, another seventh year, albeit a Hufflepuff. "I completely forgot that about you. But weren't you in our apparition class last year?"

"Her birthday falls after September 1, so she is our age but below our year. And since she would be eligible to take her apparition test the first Hogsmeade weekend after school starts this year, but before the class is offered again, she was allowed to take the class, along with everyone else that falls into that category." Xenophilius answered, as he stared up at the ceiling, seemingly counting the clouds that were in the sky. He thought he saw a cloud that was shaped like a blibbering humdinger, but it disappeared before he could get a better look.

"Um," Greta said, looking over to Xenophilius, thoroughly shocked by his lucidity. The reason he gave for her being in the apparition class the previous year was exactly correct, as her birthday was in late September, just after the cutoff, and as a result of that, she was older than most of the other sixth years. "Thank you, Xeno."

"The wrackspurts are gone," Xeno grinned, his gaze moving from the clouds to Greta sitting across from him. "It was my pleasure."

"What about some other scores, do you know them?" Harry asked, wanting to see if she knew how his mother did. While he had always assumed that his mother was quite the student, he wanted some tangible proof on the matter; he wanted to know how bright of a witch she was to see if his beliefs about her met with the reality.

"I only know the ones that did well, since people don't admit when they did poorly," Greta said, thinking about it, trying to remember what she had heard through the gossip on the Hogwarts Express. "Severus Snape did well, came in right behind James, same with Sirius."

"Lily Evans?" Harry inquired specifically, hoping he wouldn't come off as too direct. He knew that Greta had seen him talking to Lily a few times, so he hoped that she figured he was just asking because they were friends, which was more than a reasonable belief.

"She did very, very well, behind the aforementioned boys, but very well." Greta replied, earning a smile from Harry. "I heard that she got eight O.W.L.s. I'm not definitively sure about that, but that's what Mary told me and they're pretty good friends."

The table drifted off into various conversations after that, but Harry's mind lingered on the O.W.L.s and Greta taking them the previous year. He was proud of his mother and his father, as well as Sirius, for the grades that they received, even if the guys had gotten a reputation for being lazy. He reasoned that the laziness perception was probably an offshoot of their arrogance and all the time they had spent becoming animagi, a notably difficult art to master, one that he presumed wasn't accomplishable by people that were lazy and had a lack of resolve. Still, something didn't seem right to him when it came to Greta being in sixth year, though he couldn't quite place it. He had known all along that she was in her sixth year, as the pair had met because her friend Mary MacDonald had been hexed by Rodolphus Lestrange and his gang, but the fact that she took her O.W.L. exams the previous year had entirely slipped his mind up until that point.

"Wait a minute," Harry said slowly, recalling the day by the lake where Snape had been hung in the air by his father. His voice drew Greta's attention, as she stared back at him, cocking an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. "You were sitting with us around the lake when an O.W.L. exam was happening, you know, that day when Severus Snape and James Potter had their spat."

"That was Care of Magical Creatures, I didn't take that O.W.L." Greta replied, turning her attention back to a group of sixth year girls, leaving Harry to his thoughts.

"Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry whispered slowly, visions of Snape's memory coming into his mind. _That doesn't make any sense,_ he thought to himself_, I swear that was the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam when I saw it_. Shaking his head in utter bewilderment, he returned to his lunch, deciding to think about the topic later.

Before Harry knew it, it was the next Wednesday, which found him walking up the stairway to Dumbledore's office. He had gotten very little done in regards to Dumbledore's notes since his return to Hogwarts, being too busy with his schoolwork to do very much. Additionally, Bellatrix had continued to ignore him, which somewhat saddened and depressed him, distracting him enough that he could not focus on the notes for the time being. When he arrived at the top landing, he saw that the wooden door in front of him was closed, so he waited patiently until it opened, assuming that the headmaster was meeting with someone before him. He could hear muffled voices behind the door, but from his spot on the opposite side, he could not make out who they belonged to or how many there were.

"And that should be all," Dumbledore smiled to the two young people that were sitting in front of him; one was a male with short brown hair and brown eyes, while the other was a female with black hair and violet eyes. They both had two golden badges that were engraved with a large H over the Hogwarts coat of arms fastened to the outside of their black school robes, signifying their status as the Head Boy and the Head Girl of the school. Stitched over the left breast of their robes was a stylized emblem of Hogwarts in the colors of their respective houses, Slytherin for the female and Gryffindor for the male.

"See you next week, headmaster," Frank Longbottom nodded, getting to his feet and heading towards the exit. He opened the door and looked back at Bellatrix, expecting her to be there, but walked out alone when he saw that she was waiting behind, seemingly needing to talk to the headmaster.

"Headmaster," Bellatrix started, hanging back, allowing Frank to leave by himself. She looked down at the aged wizard with her violet gaze, a blank expression on her face. "I have a question for you."

"Yes, Ms. Black?" Dumbledore inquired, gazing up at the young witch through his half-moon spectacles. He waited patiently for her to speak what she wanted to say, already anticipating why she was there.

Bellatrix stared at the headmaster for a few silent moments, before opening her mouth and talking in a low tone. "Why did you make me Head Girl?" She asked cautiously, wanting to know the answer to the question that had plagued her since she first received her badge with her Hogwarts letter a month prior.

"You are one of the people at the top of your class," Dumbledore answered obviously, knowing how skilled and intelligent the witch standing in front of him was. While her scores in all classes were good, her most promising course was Charms, where she had earned an Outstanding in her O.W.L. exam. "You deserve recognition for that."

"But being Head Girl isn't solely based on grades," Bellatrix acknowledged, noting the other traits that came into the decision of making someone Head Boy or Girl, such as leadership, helpfulness, character, and participation. "And there are countless of other witches who are near my grades and have been a lot more active in the Hogwarts clubs over the years. Plus, with my reputation…"

Dumbledore inwardly praised Bellatrix's modesty, knowing that it was a big step for her to admit what she admitted. "I believe in you, Ms. Black," Dumbledore said, looking at her through his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes twinkling. "And I believe that my choice was the correct one, and hopefully, you'll see that in the future."

"But why?" Bellatrix prodded, trying to get him to reveal more information, trying to get him to say what she needed to hear.

"You know why," Dumbledore reaffirmed her patiently, wanting to impart to her that she already knew the answer to her questions. "You know why."

"No, I don't." Bellatrix replied, shaking her head in the negative, though she wasn't angered by his answer. Instead, she was confused by it, not understanding why the older wizard believed her to know the answer for herself. "If I did, I wouldn't have asked."

"If you didn't know why, you wouldn't have to ask because the question of why you were made Head Girl would never cross your mind; instead you'd just ignorantly accept it without question, assumedly reveling in the prestige that it brought." Dumbledore responded easily, seeing the internal struggle that the girl was having. He didn't know what brought it up, but he understood that he couldn't answer her questions as thoroughly as she wanted him to—she had to do that on her own. "You asking why I made you Head Girl is proof positive that you do indeed know why, Ms. Black." He finished, privately hoping that his gamble would pay off.

Biting her lip, she gave Dumbledore a perplexed nod before heading to the door, hearing voices talking behind it. She opened it with a twist of the brass knob and met Frank and Harry, the pair engrossed in a conversation about something or other. "Are you going to the dueling club meeting next weekend?" Frank questioned interestedly, wondering if Harry would be at the club.

"Yes, so long as you are…I want a rematch." Harry grinned at the other wizard, appreciating the competitiveness between them. While he didn't know much about Frank, he did know that the wizard loved his future son immensely, and if Frank was anything like Neville, he knew that Frank was a good man; just as good as he was a wizard, which was saying something, considering Harry knew Frank to be one of the best wizards in the year.

"You got it," Frank smiled back with a nod of his head, expecting it to be as exciting as their last duel was. Just then, Bellatrix took a step out of the doorway, and Harry flipped his eyes over to her, but she looked away nearly instantly, ignoring him and his gaze. Without saying a word, she walked between Frank and Harry, and made her way down the stairs, leaving Harry to frown as he watched her go. "Bye Harry," Frank said, not noticing Harry's expression as he followed Bellatrix down, presumably heading back to the Gryffindor common room, while Bellatrix went to the Slytherin one down in the dungeons.

"See you," Harry whispered, turning and entering the office, closing the door behind him. He sighed deeply, and the brief frown that had crossed his face moments prior disappeared, not wanting to seem sad or disappointed in front of the headmaster. "Hello professor," Harry said, taking the seat across from the great wizard, a sight that he had grown accustomed to over the course of their relationship.

"Hello there, Harry," Dumbledore smiled, getting up from his chair and walking over to the cabinet on the opposite side of his office. He opened the wooden door and reached for a bottle, before pouring himself a glass of an unknown, amber-colored liquid. He offered some to Harry, but the boy politely declined with a quick shake of his head. "How are you classes going so far?" Dumbledore questioned interestedly, like a grandfather would a grandson, as he returned to his seat with his filled glass in hand.

"Great," Harry answered, furrowing his brows in thought, going over the subjects in his mind. "I'm going to enjoy this year—it'll be difficult, yes, but a good kind of difficult. Potions will be good, Charms a bit tough, and Transfiguration as hard as usual, but Defense Against the Dark Arts and Herbology are both fine."

"I'm glad to hear that," Dumbledore flashed a smile, enjoying the younger wizard's enthusiasm and zest for life. "Professor Telemus relayed to me last year that you did not know what you wanted to do after Hogwarts. Have you made a decision since that time?"

"Not yet," Harry shook his head in the negative, biting his lip nervously. "I wanted to be an Auror so badly this time last year, at least I thought I did, but I'm not sure that's for me. I don't want to fight if I don't have to, even if I think the Aurors are doing the right thing."

"The classes you have chosen leave a lot of options open, which is good, so whatever you do end up choosing, you'll have a great opportunity to pursue it." Dumbledore replied, earning a nod from Harry in response. "Perhaps being Auror isn't for you, but maybe teaching is or Hit Wizarding or curse breaking, all of which will certainly fit your skill set, I feel. I remember when I was your age I had yet to choose a career path, as well. I knew I wanted to do something in transfiguration, but it wasn't until a few years after leaving Hogwarts that I joined with the alchemist Nicolas Flamel and became an alchemist myself. I learned a lot in those years between leaving Hogwarts and joining with Nicolas; I grew as a wizard, made some mistakes, had a few heartbreaks, but found myself, which gives me confidence that you can do the same."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, thinking about all that Dumbledore had relayed to him before he perked up. "Speaking about Professor Telemus, sir, she knows my secret." Harry said, a hint of worry in his voice, though not so much so that it seemed that he was overcome with fear. "I didn't bother thinking about it last year because nothing came of it, but I just remembered it now and I thought you should know."

"I do know," Dumbledore replied, using his hand to stem any response from Harry. "As a seer, she somehow knew the second she laid eyes on you that something wasn't right, that you weren't from this time. She came to me, not long after she first saw you, explaining her concerns. I relieved her of them by telling her that your real name was Harry Potter, that you had my trust and that I knew your story, but she does not know anything more than that, at least from me, so do not fret. And even if she did, she is trustworthy and would not divulge your secret very easily."

"Oh, okay, good," Harry sighed in relief, trusting Dumbledore's actions on the matter. While he still wasn't sure how he felt about Telemus knowing his secret, he had no reasons to doubt her as she had always been helpful and kind to him since his entrance into her Ravenclaw house, offering him an ear to talk to whenever he needed one and advice when he was first learning how to apparate.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, hoping to ease any of Harry's concerns. Then, he too went silent for a moment, briefly thinking of a question he wanted to ask the younger wizard. "Harry, may I ask you something about your time in the future?"

"Certainly," Harry said, cocking an eyebrow, wondering what the headmaster wanted to know. Dumbledore had asked about the future the week before, and Harry had revealed to him the prophecy that connected Voldemort and Harry, the one that intertwined the respective fates of the pair.

"Did you ever have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor more than once?" He inquired, having a gnawing feeling that he already knew the answer. This was the first summer in many years that he did not have to hire a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, a fact that did not go unnoticed by him. It was like clockwork to him; he would hire a professor, and by that same time the summer after, he'd be hiring a new one following an accident, an incident, or some other odd occurrence that had befallen the previously hired professor.

Harry furrowed his brows in thought, trying to recall all of his teachers over the course of his schooling at Hogwarts. "Now that you mention it, no, I didn't." Harry answered, inwardly naming every Defense teacher that he had had in his own time. "I had Quirrell the first year, Lockhart the second, Lupin the third, Crouch the fourth, and then, well, let's just say not a very pleasant woman was teaching me during the fifth year. And now Professor Moonshine, who is one of the best teachers I've ever had."

"That's what I figured," Dumbledore whispered, bringing his hands into a steeple position in front of his face, as if a great wave of thoughts had overcome his mind. "It seems that the jinx that Tom Riddle placed on the position has been broken."

"What, sir?" Harry questioned with eyes wide in confusion and shock. He couldn't help but wonder how exactly someone went about placing a jinx on something intangible like a teaching job; to him, it seemed unbelievable, a thing beyond magic capability. "Tom Riddle placed a jinx on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?

"Tom Riddle was twice denied the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts, once by my predecessor Armando Dippet," Dumbledore answered, telling Harry his thoughts as he gestured to the portrait of a sleeping wizard behind him, the wizard who was known as Armando Dippet. "And then once by me two decades ago, years after he was denied the first time. Subsequent to my denial of him, Hogwarts has not been able to keep a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for more than a year at a time, with many professors having suspiciously coincidental endings."

"Until this year?" Harry questioned, though it was more of a statement as he already knew the answer: Professor Moonshine had come back to Hogwarts, she had taught for the second year in a row, which wouldn't have happened had the jinx been working.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore, agreeing with Harry's inquiry. It came as a great, and much appreciated, surprise to him when he did not receive an owl from Professor Moonshine during the summer in regards to her inability to teach like he normally would when it came to the position, and he was even further delighted when he saw her arrive at the castle a week prior to the Welcoming Feast in an effort to prepare for the coming year.

"I saved Professor Moonshine…" Harry murmured softly, wondering if his actions played a part in the apparent break of the jinx. "If I hadn't been there, she would have probably been killed."

"Yes, I heard," Dumbledore nodded, knowing that Harry's intervention was most certainly the cause of Moonshine being able to return to the position. "In Diagon Alley, if I'm not so mistaken, a fact that makes this curiosity quite interesting in my opinion."

Harry looked down at the floor, a gloomy feeling starting to well inside of him, as the memory of Greta taking the O.W.L.s jumped to the forefront of his mind and he immediately realized what that had meant. "Why did he want the post?" Harry inquired in an attempt to change the subject and get his mind off of the dreadful realization, wondering what Voldemort would need with a teaching position when all he ever wanted to do was take over the wizarding world and destroy muggles and muggleborns alike. "Did he actually want it?"

"Oh, yes, he certainly wanted it, but he wanted it for other reasons outside of teaching, though that was certainly a part that interested him as well." Dumbledore answered, aware that there were certain qualities to the post that intrigued even dark souls like Voldemort. "Tom Riddle had a band of friends, and I call them that for want of a better term since he had no emotional connection to them, while in Hogwarts, who all became the first Death Eaters. This gang included Lestrange, Nott, Mulciber, Rosier, Avery, names that I'm sure you recognize; they all traveled with Tom to the Hog's Head, in addition to Antonin Dolohov and Hektor Pyrites who were a few years younger than them, to wish him luck in his pursuit to become a member of the Hogwarts faculty. Luckily, my brother Aberforth is the barman there, allowing me to learn about his true intentions much more easily, which played a part, however minimal, in my decision to decline his offer."

"What other reasons?" Harry asked in a curious tone, wanting to know why else the most evil wizard in all of history would want to spend his time inside the halls of a school. To him, Hogwarts was all that was good and nice in the world, a place of innocence, of light and peace, which was far from the darkness that Voldemort represented.

"I have ideas," Dumbledore said, breaking his hands from the steeple position and reaching over to his glass, where he brought it up to his mouth and took a large gulp to finish it off. He looked at Harry as he placed the glass back down on his desk, a blank expression on his face. "But no more than that."

"I see," Harry whispered understandingly, realizing he wouldn't get everything just yet. He was disappointed, certainly, but he was willing to accept Dumbledore not being forthright for the time being since the topic of conversation wasn't that big of a concern. Plus, he knew he was not in the mood to argue, being too preoccupied with thinking about both Bellatrix and what he had learned about Professor Moonshine just moments before.

The room went silent for a second, the mood clearly changing, though it was not tense. "I believe he wanted the privilege to enter the castle in order to delve into its secrets," Dumbledore suddenly said, deciding to inform Harry on his thoughts, having seen the boy's countenance—even with Harry trying to mask it, there was something not quite happy about it. "Additionally, I believe he wanted to find an heirloom of the founders in order to use it as a horcrux. And finally, I believe he wanted to taint the minds of the students, giving himself more support for his eventual war."

"What heirloom was he looking for?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, trying to decipher how much knowledge Dumbledore had on the subject. He was aware of a few items that the Dumbledore of his time believed to have been made into horcruxes, but he had no idea when the great wizard had found that information out or indeed, whether the Dumbledore that was in front of him had even begun to gather the information yet. While he waited for Dumbledore to answer, he also made a note to himself to finally figure out what exactly a horcrux was, as he had yet to truly understand what the object did for Voldemort and why the dark wizard would commit himself to creating so many. He knew that it would probably seem absurd to the outside world that he was trying to discuss horcruxes with the headmaster without understanding them exactly himself when he could probably just ask the great wizard about them, but he didn't want to broach the subject of Dumbledore's notes unless Dumbledore himself spoke about them, so instead, he bit down on his questions, knowing that he would find out his answers in due time.

"One from Gryffindor, perhaps," Dumbledore replied with a slight shrug of his aged shoulders. "But the only heirloom known is that hat." He said, pointing to the sorting hat that was placed on the shelf next to the desk.

"And his sword," Harry added knowingly, having personal experience with the legendary sword. It was a short-sword that was encrusted with egg-sized rubies in the handle and adorned with the name Godric Gyffindor that was engraved into the silver blade.

"Beg your pardon?" Dumbledore questioned in surprise, his eyes zooming to Harry.

"Gryffindor's sword," Harry repeated, motioning with his head over to the shelf that held the sorting hat. "It's in the hat."

"I'm surprised you know that," Dumbledore admitted, looking over to the ragged, patched wizard's hat that could be seen in the office of the headmaster for the last thousand years. "I myself found out about that little trick just recently. Of course, I've never actually seen the sword and didn't know if it was true or not until you just proved to me that it is, but alas, there are still countless of mysteries that Hogwarts has that even a headmaster cannot find—perhaps I am not a true Gryffindor and won't be until the time comes where I am, if ever." He suggested, as he got to his feet and trekked over to the shelf that housed the hat, before gingerly running a hand over its brim. "They say the sword was made by the goblin King Ragnuk, the greatest silversmith of the time, and being goblin made, imbibes only that which makes it stronger."

Harry opened his mouth to describe the sword to Dumbledore, having held it in his own hands once before, but opted against it for the time being, just as he had his questions about horcruxes moments prior. "Why does he use the heirlooms of the founders to create his horcruxes?"

"Pure arrogance," Dumbledore said without hesitation, his gaze still set on the hat, which silently watched on. "He is the most arrogant wizard this world has ever seen. Likewise, he is also one of the most talented wizards this world has ever seen, but he is so woefully ignorant on some forms of magic and his use of the founder heirlooms just proves that point. He is only sentimental about things that relate to him, that show his grandness, his splendor, not things that other people care about. Truthfully, in his deluded mind, the founders' heirlooms are the only things worthy of his presence, hence his rancid use of them. As unwise as he is talented, as blind as he is aware, he is incapable of understanding the power of love and sacrifice; even Grindelwald wasn't nearly as arrogant, or as ignorant as Voldemort is, which is saying something, in light of Gellert having a considerable ego himself."

"I see," Harry whispered, surprised by Dumbledore's candor. He had never expected the headmaster to answer the question so frankly, but now that he had, Harry couldn't help but take it as a sign that the relationship between the two was evolving into one of mutual respect and trust. He was also surprised that Dumbledore mentioned Grindelwald's first name, which reminded him about something he learned from Dumbledore's notes: the pair had been friends at some point in their lives. While he wanted to delve deeper into that friendship, Harry knew it wasn't the right moment, so stayed silent on the issue, once more holding his tongue.

"I believe Argos the Arrogant may have given him a fight for the title of most arrogant wizard, Albus." A former headmaster called from his portrait, making many of the other portraits that were listening to the conversation laugh out in agreement.

Dumbledore gave a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, appreciating the joke but not finding it as funny as the older portraits had. "Perhaps," Dumbledore mused finally, understanding that while Argos the Arrogant was quite egotistical himself, as his epithet sugggested, he also hid a secret that not many were aware about and even fewer actually realized how important it was to Dumbledore's own life: it was Argos that had crept into a bedroom in the secret of night, under the cover of darkness, and killed Antioch Peverell and won the allegiance of the Elder wand, a wand of great power that would one day become Dumbledore's. "Tom has an abnormal attachment to things, to objects, not to people, so he is attached to trophies that make him feel even more important. I believe he is attached to this castle, just as you and I are, however warped that attachment is. His twisted sense of entitlement forces him to use the heirlooms because nothing else is worthy in his opinion."

"What did Voldemort do after he left Hogwarts?" Harry questioned him, realizing that there were decades of Voldemort's life, from his time as Head Boy Tom Riddle to the Dark Lord Voldemort that Harry was ignorant about. "Did he just study dark magic or did he actually have a job for a time?"

"He was always studying dark magic, but he did have a job," Dumbledore answered darkly, knowing that a day never went by where Tom Riddle didn't dive deeper and deeper into dark magic, didn't delve further and further into the blackest of the black arts. "He positioned himself in a situation that would allow him to secure the objects that he desired."

"Did he work in the Office of Magical Artifacts at the Ministry or something?" Harry replied, assuming that would be a good way to find the objects.

"No," Dumbledore shook his head in the negative, knowing that the real answer would surprise Harry greatly. "He was a procurer at Borgin and Burke's."

Harry blinked at that revelation. "…he worked at Borgin and Burke's?" He asked, slowly, disbelieving that Voldemort would be willing to work at such a menial job. Had Dumbledore not admitted that Voldemort was one of the most arrogant wizards to ever exist, yet he takes a job not only working under someone, but a job with such little prestige? Something didn't seem right to Harry about the situation with what he knew about Voldemort.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore smiled, turning back around to face Harry. "Quite successfully, I might add. As a young, handsome, talented wizard, Tom Riddle used his charm to acquire magical artifacts from people at the best bargain possible for the shop. It was during his time working there that I believe he found the locket of Slytherin and the cup of Hufflepuff."

"And what, he stole them from Borgin?" Harry asked, presuming that a killer like Voldemort would have no compunctions about stealing. After all, on the totem of evil, murder was a few pegs worse than thievery, and if one was willing the kill, that same person was probably more than okay with nicking objects.

"More like stole them both from a wealthy witch named Hepzibah Smith," Dumbledore said, as he poured himself another drink of the honey-colored liquid from the cabinet across the office, filling his glass up once more. Again, he offered some to Harry just as he had previously, but the younger wizard politely declined. "He framed her house elf for her murder, too."

"Obviously, he never got caught for that murder," Harry sighed, wondering how Tom Riddle got away with so many of his crimes, ones that seemed to happen all of his life—before, during, and after Hogwarts. "And he's used these items as his horcruxes?" He asked, still trying to see how much information this Dumbledore possessed already. He had a vague idea that the items were indeed used as horcruxes, but he wished to hear it from Dumbledore personally, rather than rely on the notes given to him by his Dumbledore for fear that he was misinterpreting everything that he read.

"Without seeing them, I don't know for certain, but I think it's a reasonably accurate guess that he did." Dumbledore nodded, holding his glass in his hands as he stared out of the window and over the Hogwarts grounds, a relaxed quality about him. "Especially taking into consideration the information that you gave me the last time we spoke. I didn't know whether he did or didn't before that time, but now I'm fairly certain of it."

"What kind of powers do the locket and cup possess?" Harry inquired, aware of the great powers and abilities that the four founders had themselves. He wondered if the heirlooms had any powers for themselves as he had felt the cold metal of Gryffindor's sword, had felt its strength in his hands, but didn't know about any abilities that the sword had, if it had any at all, outside of just being a sharp, durable sword that was able to kill a basilisk.

"They say they have all different kinds of magic, both items, but I couldn't tell you." Dumbledore whispered ignorantly, having barely read about them except for a few brief, fleeting paragraphs to assure him that Gryffindor did not leave any other heirloom for Tom Riddle to seek out. "However, being that it was a goblet or a cup for Hufflepuff, I'd wager that it would never be empty once it has been filled with liquid."

As Dumbledore turned his gaze away from the window and walked back around his desk with his glass in his hand, Harry looked down at his pocket watch and noticed the time. "I guess I should get going," He whispered, rising to his feet, knowing that he still had to do homework before bed, as well as the fact that Dumbledore probably had some work to do himself. "I'll see you next week, professor."

"Bye Harry," Dumbledore replied, regaining his seat behind his large oak desk. Fawkes cooed behind him, apparently saying goodbye to the younger wizard just as his master had.

"Before I go," Harry started, recalling something that he had meant to say earlier, turning around to face the headmaster. "I think I misspoke last week: Voldemort actually has five horcruxes by now, not four. One of the horcruxes, the diary, was apparently one that I destroyed on my own during my second year, which I mistakenly wrote off as having already happened because it's in my past."

"Five," Dumbledore noted, committing the number to memory. "I shall remember that. Thank you for relaying it to me, Harry." He said, as he sloshed his drink around in his glass, a pensive expression on his face.

With a nod goodbye, Harry left the office, walking down the stairwell, through the halls and into the Ravenclaw common room. Quickly, he hurried to his room, needing to talk to Remus as soon as he could. Noticing that Gaspard was the only one there and that the boy had his curtains drawn on his bed for privacy, Harry jumped into his trunk, closed the top and rushed over to the journal that held Remus' personality. With his mind still lingering on the consequences of saving Professor Moonshine, he wanted to find out what else his appearance in Hogwarts had changed, if anything at all. He knew there was one potential change that he had found on his own, but in order to be sure, he had to find out from someone who was there and had witnessed it firsthand.

"_Remus,"_ Harry wrote quickly, his quill gliding swiftly along the blank paper as words formed from the ink. _"Do you remember Snape's worst memory? The one that I floo called both you and Sirius to ask about? Where my father hung Snape in the air? And Snape called my mother a…?"_ He wrote unable to bring himself to write the word mudblood, not daring to disrespect his mother, Hermione, or any other muggleborn with the slur. He hated the term and wished that it never existed, believing it to be a crutch for lesser wizards and witches to use when they had nothing else against someone.

"_Yes, did that just happen?"_ Remus wrote back almost immediately, before the letters were absorbed back into the pages as suddenly as they had come.

"_No, it happened last year."_ Harry promptly returned in loopy cursive, filling Remus in on knowledge he didn't have. _"I have a question regarding that incident, though. What exam did that happen after?"_

"_Defense Against the Dark Arts. I remember because there were questions on the test about werewolves, and I made a joke that the werewolf was sitting in my seat."_ The journal wrote back, again lingering just long enough for Harry to read before disappearing, leaving a blank page once more.

"_It wasn't Care of Magical Creatures?"_ Harry questioned Remus more directly, making sure his hypothesis was correct. He remembered the memory that he had witnessed in the pensieve inside Snape's office during his fifth year, and the events that he had witnessed transpire with his own eyes were different, changed from what Snape's memory had told him.

"_No,"_ The black ink replied in familiar cursive. _"We didn't learn about werewolves in Care of Magical Creatures until seventh year back then."_

"_Thanks, Remus,"_ Harry wrote, closing the journal, having received all the answers that he needed. He gave out a deep sigh as he looked down at the cover of the journal, before pushing it to the side and moving his gaze upwards.

Harry stared straight at the far wall of his trunk's library, his mind racing, trying to go over everything that he had learned over the previous few days. The realization that he was changing the future immensely was beginning to dawn on him, like a cold wave of water being splashed suddenly in his face. He had never expected that even things that had nothing to do with him would be different, morphed from what they had originally been. While he had always known that things would change due to his presence, he had no idea they would be so drastic and happen so quickly, and he just hoped that he hadn't altered the past so much that it affected things that he knew to be, which would make all of his knowledge of the future obsolete and endanger countless of lives.

"If I changed a simple thing as the day an exam was taken just by being here, what have I done by revealing Bellatrix's future to her?" He questioned to himself, horror-stricken by the possibilities, knowing that he may have made a mistake that could affect everyone, not just himself. "What have I done?"

A/N: I originally had "Remus the third," but when I saw it was possible to give a shout out to Lupin the Third, I just had to do it.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! In light of giving thanks, I'm going to make a deal with you readers: if I get 30 reviews for each chapter, I will update a new chapter each week leading up to Christmas, with the Christmas chapter being uploaded on Christmas day. So get reviewing!


	25. The (Quaffle) Exchange

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: You remember that spell Harry was trying to invent during chapter 15, "Problems Spelling"? Yeah, it's back and better than ever.

S/N 2: Like I mentioned in the S/N of chapter 19, "Summer in Room 23", last year was about Harry's relationship with Lily, while this year will be about his relationship with James, and to a lesser extent, Sirius.

Chapter 25: The (Quaffle) Exchange

Harry awoke the next morning after everyone had already left the room for their classes. After readying himself for the day, he walked through the halls and down the stairs, before arriving in his Transfiguration classroom, deciding to skip breakfast, not feeling very hungry. Taking his usual seat, he stifled a yawn as he waited for the class to begin. McGonagall sat at the desk at the front of the room, seemingly preparing for that day's lecture. She had pieces of parchment littered across the top of the wooden desk, notes that she wanted to be sure to mention to her students. Harry aimlessly stared off, his mind wandering over a variety of things that had nothing to do with transfiguration.

McGonagall rose to her feet when she saw the time, walking to the head of the class so all could see her. "Since we are now finished with our review, I want to explain what we will be doing for the rest of the time here. For the first part of this year, as I told you all last year, we will be working on conjuration, a particularly difficult branch of transfiguration." She lectured with her voice stern and wise. "It takes concentration and energy, so don't fear if you have trouble with it, you just need to work at it harder and it will come. For the second part, we will be working on human transfiguration, where I expect you to be able to transfigure a classmate into an animal of my choosing."

She paused for a brief moment, allowing the students to think about what she had told them, before continuing on with the lecture. "Conjuration, as the name suggests, conjures an item from thin air. The size and characteristics of the item depends upon your concentration, your skill, and your willpower. The more powerful and skilled a person is, the longer the conjured items will last. However, no matter how powerful a person is, a conjured item will not last forever, and usually disappears after only a few hours."

Harry's thoughts drifted off to the various conjurations he had witnessed in his life. During his time at the Burrow, he watched as Mrs. Weasley seemingly conjured a sauce from thin air, though he didn't know how that was possible under the laws of magic that he knew them as. He had also seen Professor Dumbledore conjure things a few times, such as the massive amount of sleeping bags in his third year, as well as the two plushy chairs during his fifth year when he was being tried by the Wizengamot. Finally, he had also witnessed Lord Voldemort conjuring a silver metal shield during his duel with Dumbledore, a feat that Harry had seen numerous times while watching the duel in his pensieve.

"If you open your books up to page thirty, you'll see a spell that I want you to complete by the end of today's lesson." McGonagall said, drawing Harry's attention back to the class. "The spell will allow you to conjure this cage." She whipped her wand and a cage just large enough to hold a parrot appeared on her desk, made of a dull black metal and adorned with tiny engravings of birds on its base.

Harry opened his book and then looked over to the cage. He knew he could do it; after all, he had conjured something larger and far more intricate while practicing during the summer. Even still, he wanted to get it perfect, so he read over the spell's details, and went over the movements in his mind. Without his wand in his hand, he mimicked the movements, using his finger as the tip of his wand. After a few more tries, he felt ready to try, so he grabbed his wand and waited until McGonagall called him up.

While he sat there, his mind drifted off to what he had learned the previous night—that he was changing the future. He didn't know why, but he was worried about that fact, more so than he had been since arriving over a year prior. He was worried that it would hurt him, perhaps make it so he never existed in the first place, though he didn't know or understand exactly how it would work. He knew that he wanted to discuss it with Dumbledore when Wednesday came in an effort to ease his concerns, his fears, and hopefully find a way to prevent any catastrophes. Eventually, his name was read out, and after shaking the negative thoughts from his head, he walked himself to the front of the class, where he conjured a near perfect birdcage, albeit a tad smaller than the original. Overall, as McGonagall informed him, it was a passing attempt, one that showed that his skill in transfiguration was evolving. The class finished soon afterwards, and he returned to his room to study for the next day.

Before dinner later that night, Harry arrived outside of Moonshine's office as she had requested of him, a nervous energy about him. He had no idea why she wanted to meet with him, though he hoped he wasn't in trouble for anything. He neared the door and gave it two quick knocks, announcing his presence to the witch inside. He heard some footsteps coming from behind the door before it was opened, revealing the older witch. "Hello ma'am," Harry said, his eyes meeting the witch's. She was wearing comfortable dark blue robes, lined with silver buttons, which hung loosely on her body.

"Harry," She cooed, opening her door wider and allowing him inside her office. "How are you?" She questioned interestedly, hoping that one of her favorite students was doing well.

"Not bad," Harry said, taking his first steps into the room, his gaze instinctively moving about. She closed the door and turned around to see him, running a hand over her forehead as he waited patiently for her to speak.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here," Moonshine said upon noticing his demeanor, a smirk curling around the edge of her mouth. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

"A little," Harry shrugged, not allowing her to see that he had indeed been worried that he was in trouble. He should have realized that he couldn't be in trouble, he knew, since after all, he hadn't done anything bad up until that point. He watched interestedly as she walked back around her desk, and pushed in her high-backed chair, standing behind hit as Harry raised an eyebrow up to her.

"I wanted to thank you for your help in Diagon Alley," Moonshine said sincerely, staring right at Harry, showing him that she meant it. She reached behind her desk to a shelf that was fastened to the wall and grabbed a box wrapped in brown paper that looked like a muggle package. "Thank you." She said honestly, handing the box over to the younger wizard to open.

"You didn't have to do this, professor," Harry smiled, grateful for Moonshine's kindness. He unwrapped the paper and found a large box of the most expensive and delicious fudge that Honeydukes had to offer. "Thank you, it looks delicious."

"You're quite welcome," Moonshine smiled, appreciating his gratitude, though she knew she owed him much more than what a simple box of chocolate could offer. "You handled yourself well in the alley; can I take it that you have actual experience fighting dark wizards?"

"Ah," Harry grinned, knowing that she wouldn't believe the real story if he told it to her. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I should have known," Moonshine nodded in understanding, cognizant that real life practice was even better than book reading in many cases. "Thinking about it, you can clearly see it in your dueling technique. That's not a dueling form that is taught through books: its real-world experience bleeding into your technique."

"I suppose that's true," Harry nodded, knowing that he had yet to read any books about dueling and simply went on gut instinct. "Do you like teaching here, professor?"

"Oh yes, very much so," said Moonshine, a broad smile appearing on her pretty face as she thought about the joy that teaching younger people brought to her. It had always been her dream since she graduated from Hogwarts a decade prior to come back and teach, and she was proud of herself for accomplishing that dream. "It's in my blood."

"Hm?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow, intrigued by what she had meant.

"My father was a teacher here a long time ago," replied Moonshine, illuminating her background for Harry as she took a seat in her chair. "He taught Potions for exactly two years before resigning and focusing on developing the potion that made him relatively famous, the one that suppresses a hag's desire for human flesh. Professor Slughorn took over for him when he left, and obviously, has not relinquished the post since." Then, seeing Harry still standing, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. "Come, sit."

Harry nodded, accepting the offer, crossing the room and taking a seat in the wooden chair. "Thank you," He said, as his gaze moved around the office once again, looking at all of the knickknacks and interesting items that it had to offer. His attention was drawn to a portrait that was hanging off on the side wall, which was of a hag that had pale yellowish skin, green eyes, long white hair, and warts on both her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Overall, she was someone that was not easy to look at, and not someone that Harry would want to meet without a wand at the ready.

Noticing Harry's gaze, she smiled, turning her attention to the hag portrait as well. "That's my mother." She said, revealing to him her most personal secret. While she didn't necessarily hide it, she very rarely informed anyone about her heritage, but she figured Harry would be trustworthy because of his last name and she owed him for saving her life.

Harry's head snapped to Moonshine, who was smiling right back at him. "That means…you're half-hag?"

"Yes," Moonshine replied softly with a slight nod of her head. "What, expected half of my face to be green and covered in warts?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed in the negative, not wanting her to think that he was in anyway discriminatory. After all, he considered Hagrid, who was a half-giant himself, a dear friend, and never once questioned the man's heritage. "I was just surprised. I mean, you look great, and…ah…" Harry blushed, realizing how that came out. He meant exactly how it sounded, but he didn't mean to actually say it. She was a very attractive witch in his mind, and he knew most of the older students agreed with him.

"Thank you, Harry," Moonshine grinned easily, trying to ease his visible awkwardness. She was flattered with his compliment even if it was a bit uncouth, and she was sympathetic to where it was coming from—she was just 30 years old and in the prime of her life, unlike many of the other professors, who were entering or already in their middle ages and beyond.

"No problem, ma'am," Harry coughed, not daring to meet her gaze. He stared at the floor for a few moments, and then kept his eyes firmly on the shelf behind the professor as he heard her voice, trying not to meet her gaze out of embarrassment.

"There is a reason why my father sacrificed most of his left thigh for his potion." Moonshine said in a wistful tone, making Harry wonder whether the professor had a good relationship with her father or not. "Once he mastered it, and my mother was able to suppress her more harmful desires, they had me—very late in life in muggle terms, but middle-aged in wizarding ones."

"I had no idea," Harry whispered, still a bit shocked at the revelation of her being half-hag. He had obviously previously heard of people being half-giant, and had even heard a rumor that Flitwick had goblin ancestry somewhere deep down in his family tree, but he never knew that hags could produce children with wizards before then; it was a fact that, while he wasn't shocked, he was a bit surprised.

"Yes, well, luckily for me, I take after my father, who was quite handsome in his own right," Moonshine said with a laugh, appreciating the fact that the she did not have the normal qualities and appearance associated with hags. "The only haggish tendencies I have are an unusual ability to wield earthen magic more easily and a taste for liver and onions." She finished with a smile, making light of her heritage's normal appetite for raw meat, which was a secondary delicacy after children.

"Earthen magic, ma'am?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, wondering what that was. He had never heard of the term before, not even in one of Hermione's useful (or in Ron's opinion, useless) lectures back in his own time.

"Yeah, spells that relate to stone, dirt, and everything in between." Moonshine informed him, aware that not many magical folk learned about it due to its limited abilities. "It's nothing special, wizards and witches can do it; it's just a matter that it comes more naturally to hags."

"I never knew that," Harry muttered, intending to look into it further when he was done meeting with her. To him, it sounded very useful, especially in a battle against a Death Eater that took place outside.

"Yes, well, it's not all that powerful, rudimentary really, hence most wizards and witches do not waste their time with it. It used to be a subject here at Hogwarts, but it was discontinued years ago as far as I know." Moonshine replied, knowing that earthen magic was very limited unless certain circumstances were met. "Hags aren't all that powerful, or magically, in truth."

"Isn't their magic limited?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, remembering something about the beings from his first year. He knew that hags were the reason, along with vampires, that centaurs and merpeople refused being status by the Ministry, willing to take the status of beast in order to avoid being classified with hags due to the race's vicious nature.

"Oh yes, they are not nearly as powerful as witches and wizards or goblins or elves, and only have limited magic within them like trolls," Moonshine explained with a nod. "But luckily, I again take after my father in that regard."

"Interesting," Harry whispered, not knowing much about hags except for a few things that he had learned from Quirrell his first year.

"Not that I'm ashamed of it, but…I trust you not to mention my hag heritage, Harry." Moonshine stated, hoping to keep it as much of a secret as she could.

"Your secret is safe with me," Harry nodded, understanding how damaging it could be to her career if it was announced to the world. He recalled how many parents called for Hagrid to be fired during his fourth year when his heritage was revealed, and he doubted a professor being half-hag would be accepted any more than a half-giant caretaker. "Can I ask you something, professor?"

"Certainly," Moonshine nodded, gesturing for Harry to continue.

"What is the difference between Aurors and Hit Wizards?" Harry questioned, recalling how Dumbledore had suggested Harry could become a Hit Wizard, rather than an Auror, the previous night in his office. Harry had always assumed that the two were one in the same, just a different name used for the same position.

"Aurors investigate dark wizards, while Hit Wizards go after known criminals," Moonshine replied with a raised eyebrow, inwardly wondering if that was his intended career path. "Think of it as a totem: Magic Squads investigate everyday disturbances or citations, Aurors search for dark wizards, and Hit Wizards go after criminals."

Harry bit his lip in thought: Hit Wizarding didn't interest him either. While going after criminals was certainly a noble career, it still was a bit too brutal for him to get behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to do something that would apply his defense skills; it was that he knew he was in for a long fight against Voldemort and he didn't want to have his entire life be about fighting. He wanted to be happy, to enjoy using magic; not be reminded of the dark arts every time he picked up a wand. That wasn't to say that he wouldn't defend anyone that needed help, for he would, it was just a matter that he didn't want to be paid to do it.

"You're bringing me back a few years by asking that question," Moonshine sighed wistfully, thinking back to her life before taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position.

"You were an Auror?" Harry asked, now knowing why she was qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts in Dumbledore's eyes.

"A Hit Wizard," Moonshine corrected, recalling how she forwent becoming an Auror, even though she was qualified enough for it—Aurors went through concealment and disguise training, while Hit Wizards did not and instead focused more on capturing and dueling techniques, which interested her more. "That's actually who helped me back to my home after the attack in Diagon Alley, an old Hit Wizard friend."

Harry thought back to that day in Diagon Alley, and remembered how a man had helped her disapparate, which he had assumed at the time was her significant other, not a Hit Wizard comrade. "Why did you give it up?" Harry inquired with furrowed brows, curious as to why she would give up the position during such a time like the one they found themselves in, with criminals and Death Eaters rampant around the country.

Moonshine shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as if Harry had encroached upon a private subject. "I wanted to teach more than anything and I was only a Hit Wizard for four years, so I held no great passion for it," She finally answered, though Harry could tell it wasn't the entire answer and that she was withholding more information than what she had revealed. "Think of Hit Wizards as a blunt instrument that comes in and helps end a situation that has already escalated, compared to an Auror who acts with pinpoint precision to prevent a situation and defuse it before it reaches dangerous levels."

Harry and Moonshine spent the next twenty minutes or so talking about nothing in particular, with both learning more about the other. Before long, Harry was preparing to leave, the box of fudge tucked protectively underneath his left arm. "Thanks again, professor, this is great."

"Thank you, Harry," Moonshine smiled, rising to her feet and walking with Harry to the door. "If you need any help or just need to talk, feel free to ask."

"Will do," Harry nodded in the affirmative, knowing that he would take that up sometime—though he would never reveal his secret to her, especially after the learning what he learned the day prior. "Goodnight," He said, and then opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

"Bye Harry," Moonshine waved as the door closed. She gathered a few pieces of parchment from her desk before walking across to the portrait of a troll, which opened up as she approached and revealed a small tunnel that led to her quarters. Immediately upon her entering the tunnel, the portrait closed back up, hiding the entrance from view once more.

The next day, a lazy Friday evening, found Harry sitting in his bed, reading for his Transfiguration class. While many of his N.E.W.T.-level classes were difficult, the most challenging of all was Transfiguration, which was especially detailed and forced a person to take every quality and characteristic seriously. As such, he spent the majority of his free time reading about the various spells and transfigurations that he was expected to know, trying to prepare as best as he could so when McGonagall called his name, he'd be able to perform to a satisfactory level. When he was finished with the page that he was on, he flipped to the next page in his book and continued on reading until a voice drew his attention away from the book.

"Finally, a spot is open on the team," Derrick Jordan sighed as he walked into the room he shared with his schoolmates, dropping his bag on the floor next to his bed. "I've been waiting two years for a spot to open up."

"Keeper, right?" Gaspard questioned, remembering how the girl that used to play had graduated the year before. They weren't known to be a very good team, having only won one game the year before, but Ravenclaws had high hopes that this year would be different, as they always did after a miserable season.

"Yes," Derrick nodded enthusiastically, a broad smile appearing on his face. "Tryouts are in two weeks. Think any of you could help me practice?"

"Throw quaffles at you, you mean?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sure. I'll help." He said, sizing Derrick up with his eyes. Certain body types fit the positions of quidditch, and to him, Derrick was a nearly perfect fit for the keeper position, being tall and lean, allowing him to fly fast, but also have enough length on his arms in order to block the quaffle more efficiently.

"Me too," Bertram nodded in agreement, willing to help out his friend, as well. "I'll do anything to get out of doing this work." He said, gesturing to the three wide open books that he had in his lap.

"Great, let me get changed and I'll go sign out the practice set!" Derrick clapped, rushing to his drawer to get his athletic clothes. He quickly threw on his clothes, and then grabbed his broom from under his bed and started getting it ready for flight, making sure everything was in working condition.

"He meant now?" Harry mouthed silently to Bertram, who shrugged with a smile. Sighing, Harry closed his books and jumped off his bed to get ready, starting to get excited at the thought of riding a broom again. Plus, he figured, it would be a good distraction to get his mind off of Bellatrix and the changes to the world that he was making, which still concerned him a great deal.

About twenty minutes later, Derrick, Harry, Bertram, and the Hufflepuff Milton Curd were all walking down the dirt path that led to the quidditch pitch, brooms in hand. Additionally, Derrick held a red leather quaffle tightly in his right hand, cradled near his stomach, like one would carry a baby. As they neared the pitch, they saw a small group of Gryffindors already using it, flying around with one hand on their brooms and the other holding their wands. As the group would near each other, they would each send a spell at one another, trying to blast the opposite person off of the broom until only one person was left, who would be declared the winner. It was an incredibly dangerous but exciting game called broomditch that wasn't played very often by normal people. "Darn," Derrick muttered disappointedly, upon seeing the pitch occupied.

"Maybe we can share?" Milton asked hopefully, not seeing why each group couldn't take half of the pitch.

"Let me do the talking, everyone," Bertram grinned, stepping forward, having a relationship with the group that was using the pitch. "Oi, Potter!" He called out into the air, hoping that James would hear him. Harry's eyes bulged and he immediately looked up to the sky, having not seen that it was indeed his father and his friends before Bertram notified him.

"Aubrey?" James Potter smirked, changing directions and flying down to the group. Behind him, Remus, Sirius and a boy that Harry did not know all flew towards the group as well, but were not nearly as fluid as James had been. Even further behind them, Peter Pettigrew was flying down to the ground, more wobbly on a broom than a first year. While James was the best flier, Remus and Sirius were good enough, the fifth boy that Harry didn't know was skilled as well, and Peter was shaky, clearly not enjoying himself all that much.

"Think we can use the half of the pitch, Derrick here needs some practice." Bertram said, slapping Derrick on the back, making the boy drop the quaffle to the ground.

"So I see," James replied with a hint of skepticism in his tone, watching as Derrick bent down to pick up the dropped quaffle. Then, a mischievous smile took shape on his handsome face, thinking of something that would entertain him for the day. "How about we play you instead? There is nothing like actual game experience, am I right? Come on, what say you?"

"You have five members," Milton said, looking behind James to the four that stayed hovering a few feet away, watching the exchange interestedly.

"Peter doesn't count, he can't fly," Sirius barked with a loud laugh, as he came around and wrapped his arm around the smaller Peter Pettigrew.

"You're not the best either, Sirius," Remus remarked, defending his friend and earning a glare from Sirius. While he enjoyed both James and Sirius' sense of humor, he didn't like how they sometimes ragged on Peter, even though he knew that both cared deeply about the less talented wizard and would protect him from anyone and anything.

"Fine with me," Derrick nodded, knowing that James was one of the best chasers at Hogwarts and it would be great practice for him. He mounted his broom, tossed the quaffle over to Bertram and flew in the direction of the far goalpost, intending on using the extra time to prepare himself.

"I actually have to leave, so the numbers issue is a moot point," The boy that Harry didn't know said, jumping off his broom and putting it over shoulder. "I'll see you guys later." He said, walking up the path that led to the castle in the distance.

"Bye," Remus called out, as the others silently waved.

"Sirius, man the goal; Remus, Peter, you're with me." James shouted, rising high into the air, ready to play. "First to ten points wins."

Harry, Bertram, and Milton all mounted their brooms, passing the quaffle back in forth as they levitated into the air, loosening up a bit. "Harry, do you want to take the center position?" Bertram questioned, having previously seen how fast of a flyer Harry was the few times they had flown together the year prior—he was probably the only one that would be able to keep up with James, who was an extraordinary flyer in his own right.

With a nod from Harry, they all got in position, and Harry stared across the pitch at his opposite on the other team, his own father. A nervous excitement overcame, realizing that he was going to be able to fly with his father for the first time in his life. While it wouldn't be what would normally be expected of a father and son flight, it was still thrilling for Harry to experience something that many wizards took for granted. He had seen his father place quidditch the year previous during one of the games that he had attended, and was quite impressed with James' skill—though Harry knew he could fly better.

"Shall we?" He heard James yell out, and looking between Milton and Bertram, Harry flew off with the quaffle in hand, zooming across the pitch, starting the match in full.

James and Remus came flying towards him, while Peter held back, apparently being employed as an extra line of defense. As James neared Harry, Harry ducked under the wizard's move for the quaffle, spinning expertly and tossing the quaffle over to the open Milton. Milton flew into the other team's zone, before passing it across pitch to Bertram, who was wide open. As it arced in the air, Remus flew towards it, outracing both Bertram and Harry, before scooping it up and zooming away from his goal.

Remus quickly chucked the quaffle forward, allowing James the opportunity to dive down and get it as it plummeted to the ground. Before James could reach it, however, Harry speeded downwards and grabbed the quaffle, keeping it in the other team's zone. He swiftly tossed it to Bertram, who zagged around the much slower Peter, and threw it towards the left hoop. Sirius batted it away with his hand, and then flew down to grab it as it slowly fell to the ground. He tossed it over to James, who circled back and scanned the pitch, trying to figure out the best way to score. Seeing an opening, he zoomed forward, leaning over his broom to make it go faster. He entered Harry's team's zone, but as he neared the goal posts, he was cut off by Harry, who stole the ball from his hand and tossed it over to Bertram.

"Nice one," Derrick called out; surprised by Harry's flying ability as James was the best flyer in Hogwarts at the time. It seemed like Harry was a near equal—he was a bit faster than James was, but not nearly as elegant on the broom.

Bertram quickly passed the quaffle over to Milton, who immediately chucked it towards the goal. It flew just a foot out of reach for Sirius and soared through the hoop, scoring the first goal of the game. Grumblingly, Sirius quickly scooped up the falling quaffle, and threw it over to Remus, who tossed it to James. James flew with it in his hands, dodging both Milton and Bertram, and throwing the quaffle towards the goalposts. Derrick easily grabbed the quaffle in midair with a smile, and then tossed it over to Harry.

Harry flew down the pitch, faking passes and feigning shots to draw the defenders, before he zipped towards the goal, tossing it into the hoop on the far right, scoring another point for his team. Catching it as it fell to the ground, James angrily took the quaffle, flew between Milton and Bertram, and just as he was about to throw it towards the goal, he tossed it over to the wide open Remus, who easily scored. Derrick flipped the quaffle to Harry, who flew down the pitch with it and, after a few clever passes, scored once more for his team. Back and forth the teams flew, scoring and stealing the quaffle, each team staying within range of the other for a time, but Harry's team predominantly controlling the lead.

Eventually, the game was finished with Harry's team winning by a score of ten to six. While Remus, Peter, and Milton returned to the castle, Harry, James, Sirius and Bertram all stayed behind, tossing quaffles at Derrick. Derrick was, Harry saw, a relatively decent keeper, but nowhere near the standards of Oliver Wood. He was a mediocre flyer, but his athleticism, limberness and long arms made up for it, as those physical traits allowed him to reach many quaffles that would be unreachable by shorter keepers. Harry had no idea if he would make the team, but the chances of him earning a spot certainly weren't bad.

"You were pretty good, Dumbledore," James said, his breathing a bit heavy as they both flew down to the ground once they were finished. "You didn't play chaser at your other school, though, I can tell."

"How?" Harry questioned as he landed, looking over to his father with a raised eyebrow, wondering how the boy had deciphered that.

"You're sloppy with the quaffle," James answered, landing next to Harry and hoisting his broom over his shoulder as they started walking up the path. "You're slow in your quaffle transfer from one hand to the other. And your arm strength isn't very good."

"Is that so?" Harry replied with an amused smirk, knowing that all of those traits that James had mentioned were what made for a great chaser.

"Yes," James nodded in the positive, confident that his assessment of Harry's quidditch skills was correct. "But you're too good of a flyer to not have played quidditch. And from the looks of you, tall and thin, I'm guessing you weren't a beater. And with your flying ability, you probably weren't a keeper, either, which leaves only the seeker spot."

"Very intuitive of you," Harry said with a smile, impressed with his father's deductive reasoning. He knew his father was smart, but this was the first time he had seen his father's wit in person, and if he was honest, it was quite remarkable. "I was a seeker, you're right."

"Bad luck you were sorted into Ravenclaw then, they're the only ones that didn't need a seeker either last year or this." James noted, having personally selected the new Gryffindor seeker the year prior as captain of the Gryffindor team.

"If I was meant to play quidditch while at Hogwarts, I would have been sorted into a team where I could have played," Harry replied easily, knowing it was true. Back in his own time, he got to play four solid years of quidditch, and it would have been five if quidditch hadn't been canceled due to the Triwizard Cup, which was more than many other kids could say they had played. "I'm okay with it."

"Lucky for Gryffindor then," James murmured quietly, desiring nothing more than a Gryffindor win in the Quidditch Cup—save perhaps for a date with Lily Evans. "Our seeker isn't nearly as good as you would be. I'd fear for our chances at the Quidditch Cup if you were on Ravenclaw, who would be pretty strong with you on the team."

Once they were up at the castle, they all parted ways, with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws heading to their respective towers. "Think you'll make the team?" Harry questioned Derrick once they arrived back in their room a few minutes later, wanting to gauge how confident the boy was in his abilities. Harry hoped that Derrick would indeed make the team, since he knew how much the wizard loved quidditich; after all, it was basically all he talked about.

"I hope so," Derrick whispered, tucking his broom underneath his four-poster bed for storage. "I guess we'll see."

That weekend, Harry walked down to the dueling club meeting with Xenophilius, interested to see what it was about. They were some of the first to arrive, so they stood to the side of the platform that was in the center of the Great Hall, whispering amongst themselves. There were a slew of younger students in the hall, third and fourth years, all talking animatedly with their friends, clearly excited at the idea of a dueling club, having never experienced it before. As Harry's gaze moved around the hall, he noticed there weren't very many older students, barely any sixth years of which to speak and even fewer seventh years, which Harry found as strange. Additionally, there were a few teachers spread throughout the audience, mingling with their students and talking amongst members of their house.

"Hi Harry," Frank Longbottom said in his thick northern accent as he walked up to the Ravenclaw, his arms crossed in front of him as he surveyed the room.

"Hey Frank," Harry replied, turning around to face the other wizard. "How've you been?" He questioned, having not spoken to the boy other than a few hellos since that night in front of Dumbledore's office.

"Not bad," Frank sighed with a frown, turning his attention back to Harry. They were alike in body build and of near equal height, each being around six feet, with Harry being just a tad shorter of the pair. "What about you? Do you know what we're actually supposed to do here?"

"Not really," said Harry with a shake of his head, having no more information than anyone else. While he had tendered his acceptance of dueling captain to Moonshine the year before, she had not given them any knowledge of what those duties would actually include. "Are you going to be captain?"

"I'm going to try, yeah, what about you?" Frank questioned back, hoping that he wouldn't be the only one from the dueling tournament to be a dueling captain.

"Same," Harry agreed, before noticing that someone was missing from Frank's side. "Where is Alice?" He asked, having grown accustomed to always seeing Alice and Frank together, like two inseparable complements. It was sweet to him to know that no matter what they did or where they went, the pair were always together, which made it even more heart wrenching to know that, in the future, they would be in St. Mungo's together, after suffering the same fate at Death Eaters' hands.

"She didn't feel like coming," Frank shrugged, turning his gaze to Professor Moonshine, who had just arrived and was walking up to them.

"Gentlemen," Moonshine started, stopping a few feet in front of them. "I'm glad to see you both here. I was wondering if you guys would like to show the younger students how a duel works?" Moonshine questioned, looking back and forth between Harry and Frank. "You know, a rematch from your duel last year, so to speak?"

"Sure," Harry nodded enthusiastically, excited at the prospect of getting a little atonement from his defeat. He knew this time he was prepared, less arrogant, and more focused on his skills, compared to last time where he was nonchalant and allowed himself to be distracted while dueling.

"More than willing," Frank grinned, wanting the challenge that Harry presented him. While his father had trained him, other than a few duels with Death Eaters the previous summer, he had yet to really be able to stretch his skills, and he longed for the chance to see what he could do against a relatively even opponent.

Moonshine smiled appreciatively, before hopping up onto the platform that was centered in the Great Hall. ""Welcome to the first meeting of the dueling club," Moonshine bellowed, spinning around on the platform so she could get a view of everyone that was there. "We are all not only here to better protect ourselves and learn to defend ourselves in case of danger, but also to have fun and enjoy our time together. To that end, I will appoint a captain for each house's dueling club, and give them a guided plan to teach you, which will allow you to learn in a more relaxed atmosphere. After fifteen or twenty minutes of lecture, we will then have a duel for all to see—only older students will be allowed to partake in this duel, I'm sorry to say to anyone younger than fifth year."

There was a loud groan from the students, presumably the third and fourth years that were disappointed at the announcement. "Now, now, don't be like that. We have a special treat today," Moonshine's voice called out with a chuckle "Our two dueling finalists of last year's tournament have graciously agreed to give us a show in order to provide a few pointers to our newcomers."

There was an excited round of applause, and Harry and Frank both stepped up onto the platform, a sense of familiarity between them. Harry had been disappointed with himself when he felt defeat at the hands of Frank the year before, and worked tirelessly during the summer on his magic in order to be as strong as he could. He had learned many jinxes, many hexes, and even a few curses, plus a plethora of charms and transfiguration spells in order to be best be prepared for any duel that he should have against a Death Eater. Additionally, he had worked on his own spell, the Sleepy Charm, mastering it to the point that he knew it would offer an ace up his sleeve as no one else in the world, save Edgar and Bellatrix, knew about the spell.

"Harry and Frank are also going to be the captains for Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, while Hufflepuff and Slytherins' captaincies will be filled within a few meetings." Moonshine lectured, hoping one of the older students in the Hufflepuff and Slytherin houses would step forward. "The point of this club is to learn and master general dueling techniques that will help regardless of the context they are being used—whether you are fighting off an attack or entering a dueling tournament after you graduate from Hogwarts. Now, without further adieu, let's watch a duel! Notice their technique, their mannerisms while they duel, as that will translate, regardless of how skillful you are with a wand or how many spells you know."

"Should we use American rules or European?" Frank questioned Moonshine lowly, curious as to what rules she wanted them to use during the duel.

"What's the difference?" Harry asked, not knowing there were different rules for the various dueling confederations that were scattered around the world.

"American rules allow you to move side to side, whereas European you can only move forward or backwards except for a few steps," Moonshine explained to Harry in a quiet voice. "Use American rules, and as for the spells, the same rules as the tournament: you must abide by the laws of the Ministry of Magic, no intent to severely injure, and if you are knocked unconscious, disarmed, or thrown from the platform, you lose." Then, looking at each dueler, she said, "Duelers bow." Both Frank and Harry gave a respectful bow to one another, dropping their heads and bending at the waist. "At the ready…go!" She finished, before jumping off of the platform to watch the duel, having been entertained by the last meeting between the pair.

Harry stared at Frank, wanting the man to make his first move. As if on cue, Frank launched a spell at Harry that sailed swiftly through the air, before being batted down to the ground by Harry with a well-placed shield. Back and forth spells zoomed from the wizards' wands, a flashing of blues, purples, and yellows, a plethora of jinxes and hexes and charms being sent by each. Just as Harry was about to send a hex at Frank, the other wizard sent a blast of brown light at Harry, whom had to dodge to the left in order to avoid the attack.

In retaliation, from his spot on the platform, Harry pointed his wand down at Frank's feet, spoke the necessary incantation, and transfigured the wizard's shoes into stone, nearly knocking him over as a result. Immediately following, Harry sent the disarming jinx and a stunner Frank's way, hoping for an early victory. Acting quickly, Frank summoned a shield to protect himself from the two spells that zoomed his way, before working on fixing his shoes. The two spells ricocheted off of his shield, making the energy shimmer like a ripple in a pond, leaving him defenseless for the time being as he tried to transfigure his formerly leather shoes from stone back into leather.

Seeing a chance for attack, Harry sent another stunner Frank's way, and followed it immediately up with a body-binding jinx. Knowing that he would be unable to summon another shield in time, Frank transfigured his shoes back into their normal texture and then quickly dove to the ground to avoid the spells, rolling onto his back to watch as the two spells flew over him and into the wall in the distance. From the ground, he shot a disarming jinx at Harry, using that as cover in order to rise from the platform. Harry summoned the Shield Charm, negating the jinx, and then took a step back, allowing Frank the time he needed to get back to his feet.

Rising from the platform, Frank smiled and wiped the sweat off his brow, enjoying the battle that Harry was giving him. "That was nice," He said, trying to catch his breath. "What was that, the Stiffening Charm?"

"Something like that," Harry grinned, not wanting to reveal his secrets.

"Do you guys want to stop?" Moonshine quickly questioned, doubting they would want that, but offering the chance. She saw their heavy breathing, both boys clearly tired from the impressive action already.

"Not unless we have to," Frank said, keeping his gaze on Harry, who nodded in agreement. Then, without warning, Frank sent out a spell that Harry did not know—the spell was a cannonball-looking burst of energy that sailed through the air at an incredible rate of speed.

Not being able to identify the spell, and being incapable of distinguishing its properties, Harry swiftly conjured a small, circular, archaic iron shield and held it tightly in his arms, knowing that the spell may go through a magical shield, but certainly not a physical one. He peeked over the edge of the shield, and seeing the spell zooming towards him, he braced himself for impact, intending to use all of his strength to stand his ground. Frank's spell smashed against the shield, eliciting a loud gong sound, and pushed Harry backwards due to the amount of force it applied. Again and again, Frank sent the spell at Harry, pushing him further and further back each time the spell made contact with the shield, like a battering ram would push a wooden door. Finally, Frank put a great deal more energy into one last spell, which knocked Harry off of his feet and down to the platform, the shield disappearing in thin air as if it evaporated.

Frank whipped his wand downwards at Harry, making Harry roll over as another spell came zipping down at him, scorching the part of the platform where he was just laying. Frank continued his assault, moving closer and closer to the downed wizard, forcing Harry to roll back and forth over the platform, dodging each new attack that came. After another two or three times, Harry was finally able to get back feet and summon the Shield Charm to protect himself from another attack that flew his way. Harry parried the attack, and sent it straight back at Frank, who dodged out of the way expertly, unperturbed by his failure.

Frank backed away from Harry, creating more space between the pair as he tried to catch his breath once again. He had put a lot of energy into that attack, expecting it to have worked since it was a very difficult spell to perform. He knew that, if it was anyone else in Hogwarts, even the other noted wizards and witches around their year like Bellatrix and Sirius Black or James Potter or Barty Crouch Jr. or Severus Snape, it would have probably worked, but Harry was different—Harry was a very skilled duelist, more so than anyone else their age. The other aforementioned students may have been smarter than Harry or more skilled than him in using magic, but none of them were better duelists, though Frank knew not where Harry had learned such skills.

Harry grinned at his opponent, enjoying the rush of excitement that dueling Frank brought to him. With his eyes entirely on Frank's wand hand, studying it to make sure Frank wasn't preparing for an advance against him, he contemplated a plan of attack, trying to think of a spell that would end the duel. He knew that normal tactics wouldn't work because they would be easily blocked, his next attack would have to be something new, something that would confuse Frank and overcome his defenses. As he stood there, watching Frank catch his breath, a small smile came to his face, knowing exactly what spell he was going to use.

_Enervate_, Harry thought to himself, motioning with his wand. He had found out during the summer that his Sleepy Charm, the spell he had invented months prior, only worked properly when performed nonverbally, though he had no idea if it was just him that couldn't do it or the spell had a defect that prevented it from working when spoken—or at least a lot less effective. Regardless, he watched as the orange spell zipped out of his wand and flew towards Frank, who was unable to dodge or summon a shield to protect himself due to the speed at which it came. As a result, the spell hit Frank straight in the chest, though showed no visible signs of damage.

On the inside, however, Frank immediately felt it: he yawned and yawned as a great tiredness suddenly crept into his body. "What was that," Frank sleepily asked, his mind trying to stay awake as the haze of lethargy stole over him. His eyes kept closing, before he would jerk awake, the effects of the spell doubling the tiredness that he had already felt. "What did you do to me?" Frank yawned once more, feeling his energy being zapped away quickly, as if he was running a muggle marathon while standing in place.

Harry grinned as he watched Frank stumble across the platform in an effort to regain his strength, too tired to walk straight. He knew that the spell wasn't nearly complete and would need a lot of tweaking and enhancing, but he was happy that he accomplished what he had set out to do months ago: invent his own spell. _Hermione would be so proud of me_, he thought to himself with a grin, knowing that his dear friend from his own time had invented the jinx that was placed on the Dumbledore's Army parchment during their fifth year, a jinx that wrote the word 'sneak' in boils on a person's forehead should they have gone against Dumbledore's Army.

"What spell is that?" James Potter said as he watched the duel, pushing himself off of the wall and taking a few steps forward to get a better view. He could see the potential in a spell that disoriented someone as much as Frank seemed to be, one that could potentially help him should he find himself in a duel with an equal opponent one day.

Seeing his chance to finish the duel as Frank was still befuddled by what was happening to him, Harry swiped his wand horizontally to the platform and Frank's legs came out from under him, where he was slightly tossed a few feet into the air. Harry then immediately whipped his wand downwards like an ax, and Frank was thrown back down to the platform with a great deal of invisible force, as if a giant had batted him down from the air. With one final thrust of his wand, Harry sent Frank flying off of the platform, landing with a thud and skidding a few feet across the ground. Harry watched Frank stir, before getting back to his feet, half asleep but otherwise okay.

"What a duel!" Moonshine said loudly, hopping up onto the platform so everyone could see her. "Let's give a round of applause for our duelists!" She yelled, gesturing for Harry next of her, who gave a small wave to the crowd.

Harry then jumped down off of the platform, weaving his way through the crowd—some of them patting him on the back and telling him good job as he walked—until he reached Frank, who was still a bit dazed. "Well done," Frank nodded to Harry in his thick northern accent, stifling a yawn with his hand. His energy felt completely zapped from him, feeling like he had stayed up late the previous night.

"Rennervate," Harry recited, pointing his wand at Frank's chest, invigorating Frank so he wasn't so sleepy. Almost immediately, Frank felt a change, as if the great fog of lethargy was stripped from him—he felt back to normal, though still tired from the usage of his magic. "Better?" He questioned, knowing that it would strengthen him somewhat and end any further tiredness caused by the Sleepy Charm.

"Thanks," Frank nodded appreciatively, glad to feeling relatively normal. He was tired, certainly, but not nearly what he felt when Harry's spell was in full effect.

"No problem," Harry replied easily, not wanting Frank to think anything of it. "A piece of chocolate or an invigoration draught would have worked too."

"How did you get so much better than me?" Frank sighed, noticing the considerable skill that Harry had attained over the course of the summer. Before, Harry had been very skilled, but left himself open to attack—this time, however, his magic was greatly enhanced. "I guess I slacked off during the summer. Don't expect me to be so easy next time," He whispered with a smile, the flame of competition mulling inside of him.

"I practiced a lot," Harry murmured, recalling the countless of days during the summer where he would just sit by the window overlooking Diagon Alley and just read a spell book.

A few moments passed, before Moonshine began to lecture, informing the students of certain techniques that would help prevent injury. The lecture went over the basics, all of which were not too complicated that the younger students that were there couldn't understand the theory behind it. She mainly focused on the position of the wand in order to best protect oneself, with certain positions being quicker and easier to conjure a shield to block any curses. Soon enough, the club ended, and everyone dispersed, many students mentioning how they would not be returning unless they got chosen to duel.

Harry walked up to the Ravenclaw with Xenophilius, walking through the throng of students that were gossiping and talking as they slowly made their way to wherever they were headed. "Frank is going to want another rematch," Xenophilius remarked once they arrived in the privacy of their room. Harry looked over to his friend, and after a moment, he gave him a smile, but said nothing.

The Monday after the weekend, Harry sat in his Charms classroom, watching as Professor Flitwick began his lecture about the most difficult charms the subject had to offer. "Wards," said Flitwick, gesturing to the book in front of him with his wand. "Are defensive spells based around inanimate objects. While they aren't per se a magical practice, common linguistics call these defensive spells wards, instead of shields, which are based around a physical body."

Many of the students moved their gazes over to one another, each confused by what the professor had meant. "Wards don't actually exist, you mean?"

"Well, if you look in a charm spell book, you won't find the word ward anywhere in there, is what I mean." Flitwick answered with a smile, knowing that it was just an argument over semantics. "Wards are often used to protect encampments or places, buildings, like Hogwarts itself. The founders of Hogwarts were all brilliant when it came to wards, each of them, so the school is surrounded by wards that envelope all the environs in and around the castle. The most famous of wards, of course, are the Anti-Apparition Charm and the Anti-Disapparition Jinx, which prevent the apparition and disapparition to and from a place, respectively."

Harry skimmed through his book as listened to the conversation, disinterestedly reading some spells that he knew they would be going over during the year. As he turned a few more pages, his eyes fell upon a couple of interesting charms that he made sure to take note of, before Flitwick's voice brought him out of his stupor. "Today, we are going to go over a particularly effective ward called the Anti-Hex Charm, which protects a plot of land from most hexes being cast towards the wards placed on an enchanted plot and deflects most hexes away. It is the most powerful version of the hex-deflection spells that you performed in Defense Against the Dark Arts during your fourth year." Flitwick informed his students, having firsthand experience of the protection that the Anti-Hex Charm afforded. "The incantation is 'Salvio Hexia', and the wand movement is similar to the Shield Charm."

The rest of the class opened their books to read about the charm, while Harry found the page a few from what he had been reading already. After silently reading for a minute or two, the students grabbed their wands and began practicing it. Eventually, there was a chorus of 'Salvio Hexias' filling the room, each student trying to master the charm as quickly as they could. Flitwick walked around the room, critiquing the wand technique of the students, moving their arms and placing them in the exact position they needed to be if he saw that they were doing it incorrectly.

"Salvio Hexia," said Gaspard Shingleton, which elicited a wave of energy that crossed the room, making everyone that was touched by it shiver. He looked over to Flitwick for a nod of approval, but the diminutive professor shook his head, apparently dissatisfied with the result.

"Wards are not my strength, it seems," murmured a Hufflepuff, as everyone around her began to get the same response to their incantations. The class continued their efforts for the next twenty minutes, with the closest person coming to a triumphant try being Gaspard, who had yet to replicate the same near success that he had performed his first try.

"That is all for today, class," said Flitwick, clapping his small hands together after noticing the time. "Be prepared for the coming months, as we will be going over the Repelling Charm, the Unplottable Charm, amongst other very difficult wards."

The students all gave out a sigh of relief, exhausted from an entire session of performing the Anti-Hex Charm. They all gathered their things, some conversing with their friends, while the others silently packed their bags, too tired to do anything else. Harry tossed his charms book into his backpack, and capped his bottle of ink and put it in one of his bag's pockets. He gestured for Xenophilius to wait for a moment as he pocketed his wand and moved towards the door.

"Mr. Dumbledore," Filius Flitwick called out, hoping to get the younger wizard's attention before he left. "Do you mind if we talk for a few moments?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, waving for Xenophilius to go on as he stayed in class. He wondered what the diminutive professor had to talk to him about, as he had completed the spell he was meant to perform acceptably and wasn't behind in his work as far as he knew. "What's up?"

"I was wondering what you planned on doing after Hogwarts?" He questioned, taking a seat in his chair. He could just barely be seen above his desk, with only his neck and head being above the wood. "Specifically, I was wondering if you have ever given any thought about becoming a professional duelist?"

"No, sir, I haven't actually thought about that," Harry replied, intrigued by the prospect. While he didn't want to fight with magic like he would have to do being an Auror, dueling was not a fight, instead it was a competition—it was for fun, not life or death, a subtle but tremendous difference in his mind.

"Admittedly, I don't know your situation so I don't know what you're looking for out of a profession, but being a duelist can be a profitable career for some people in the fact that you can make a lot of galleons in winnings on the circuit, it comes with great fame, it's a great way to hone your skills, and quite honestly, it's the most fun you will ever have in your life." Flitwick informed him, knowing from experience that a life could be had solely by competing in dueling competitions and tournaments.

Harry thought about everything Flitwick had said. While the money and fame wasn't really interesting to him, the other perks of the occupation certainly intrigued him enough to think about it further. "I've never actually realized that before."

"That's surprising," Flitwick replied, having assumed that someone would have mentioned it to Harry. "I've seen your duels, and you have an uncanny natural ability when it comes to practical magic. While your magical theory may need some work and is often sub-par in the assignments that you have handed in, no offense, your practical portions are at the top of the charts. As such, a dueling career would be very, very successful and prosperous for you, I think."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said, biting his lip, knowing that whatever he decided to do in life would be made after Voldemort's defeat. "I'll look into it. Can I talk to you about it later?"

"Certainly," Flitwick agreed with a nod of his head. "Feel free to question me whenever you want. Bye Harry," The little wizard said, returning to his work.

"Bye professor," Harry replied, walking out of the classroom. He stifled a yawn as he walked through the halls, intending on going to his room and taking a long nap to rest up like the rest of the students that had been in that charms class.

Wednesday night came, and with it, Harry found himself walking into Dumbledore's office and taking a seat in the familiar chair in front of the great wizard's desk. They made idle conversation as Dumbledore tinkered with an instrument, before the aged wizard got up from his desk and placed the instrument back in the cabinet from which it came. After closing the cabinet, Dumbledore walked around his desk and regained his seat, giving Harry a small smile as their gazes met.

"Sir," said Harry, slowly, furrowing his brows, wanting to get something off of his chest. "I've noticed recently just how much I'm changing the future. Even things that have nothing to do with me have changed. I'm wondering…what happens if I change the future so much that I never come back in time in the first place?"

"I'm not sure that's possible," Dumbledore replied quickly, wanting to squash any thoughts that Harry might have on the matter. "Whatever you change, will be the world. Don't think of yourself as going back in time, think of yourself as skipping into a new timeline—your already here, another version of you does not need to come back to make sure you're here in the first place. Whatever happens, happens, but you're here in mind, body, and most importantly, spirit. You're here. That's it. That's all there is to it."

Harry opened and closed his mouth a number of times, not knowing if he should feel relieved about what he had heard or not. "So I'll be safe? I won't fade out of existence?"

Dumbledore looked over at Harry, silently weighing what the wizard had said in an effort to best answer the question. "No, of course not, Harry. It doesn't do to dwell on such things, just live your life." He finally settled on, hoping that would suffice Harry.

"I am, aren't I? Merlin." Harry sighed, though he seemed to be more disappointed than he was sad. He knew he would fight against Voldemort as long as he could, and he hoped that he would be successful before anything happened to him.

"No," Dumbledore said in a calm but stern tone of voice, making sure Harry understood every word that he said "While I can't say for sure, no one can, I wouldn't assume that is what is going to happen. In fact, I'd wager that it won't happen, I'm almost sure of it, but I feel it necessary to say that I don't know what will happen for a fact."

"And if I change the future?" Harry questioned, wondering what the great wizard thought about it.

"Then you change the future." Dumbledore shrugged almost disinterestedly, as if he didn't care one way or the other. "I'm not going to prevent you from living your life, if that's what you're asking. Live it, Harry, live it however you want. All I will ask, all I will ever ask, is for you to give these people a chance to live their own lives just the same and not hold them to the crimes that you believe they will commit."

"Okay," Harry replied, looking down at the desk in front of him.

Dumbledore bit his lip, trying to think of a way to get off of the subject. "How is your research coming along? Have you completed it?" He questioned, wondering how the younger wizard was progressing in his studies of the notes that were left to him by his future counterpart.

"Not yet, I've been rather busy." Harry answered disappointedly, hoping that he would have enough time to get back to work soon.

Dumbledore nodded, and began talking to Harry about nothing in particular, hoping to get the younger wizard's thoughts off of things that he had no business thinking about. They spent the next hour discussing whatever came to their mind, laughing whenever appropriate. Dumbledore could tell, not through legilimency but through human experience, that Harry wasn't in the best of moods, though the boy tried to hide it. He could tell that there was also something else, underneath his fears of the future that was causing his despair, though he did not know what that was and dared not ask unless the boy brought it up himself.

Eventually Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling a bit better about his future than he had before entering. He walked through the halls of Hogwarts, slowly making his way back up to the Ravenclaw common room, intent on getting a good night's sleep. As he was passing the library, which was located below the Ravenclaw tower, he saw Bellatrix walking in the opposite hall, and he quickly hastened his pace, wanting to catch up with her to say something.

"Bellatrix!" Harry called out, his voice echoing off of the cold stone walls. Bellatrix stopped where she was, but did not turn around, continuing to look forward instead, recognizing the voice immediately. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me, if you don't want to see me anymore, I get that. That doesn't make me happy, but I can understand it and I'll respect that. But, there's something that, it's just that, you can't reveal what I told you. You can't. It'll…I don't know what it will do if you do talk to people about it. It may affect me in ways I can't imagine, or it may not, I'm not sure. But to be safe, please, I know it's a lot to ask, but please, keep my secret." Harry pleaded, watching her back for a few seconds. She did not move immediately, but then, just as silently as she once stood, she continued to walk, not giving Harry a response.

A/N: I got 30 reviews, so I uploaded this exactly one week after I uploaded the last chapter. The same deal applies this week: I get 30 reviews, I post the next chapter in a week's time, so get reviewing! And trust me; I think many of you will be happy with what happens in the next chapter.


	26. The Seventh Year Hitch

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I hope you liked the interaction between Harry and James last chapter, as they'll be interacting quite a lot during the school year. In my mind, James' already on his way to improving on a person; while he's still arrogant, he's very intelligent and shrewd, and is now just starting to listen to those around him and not be so self-absorbed.

S/N 2: While I admit that it feels rushed, this chapter was a long time coming, I think, as many of you will have your questions answered. Remember not to be too hard on Bellatrix; it's only been a week and a half, two weeks.

Chapter 26: The Seventh Year Hitch

Harry made his way out of the Great Hall after lunch the next day, heading up to his room to study for Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he had been assigned to read about the Unforgivables for the next class. "Dumbledore!" A familiar voice called out, making Harry pause where he was standing and look around to see where the voice was coming from. "What spell was it that you used against Longbottom during your duel the other day?" James Potter questioned as he walked up to Harry, having followed him out of the Great Hall. "I mean the one that made him stumble and whatnot."

Harry gave a smirk at what his father had asked, having many people inquire about the spell over the past few days—he never answered those people, though, instead deciding to keep his spell a secret for the time being. "One that I invented," Harry whispered, wondering if this was going to be his chance to finally befriend his father, the one that the Remus in the journal had suggested would come eventually when he first arrived back in time. While they had been on speaking terms for a while, he always hoped that a true friendship would blossom sooner or later and he hoped this was the opportunity for that to happen. He turned back around and continued walking up to the Ravenclaw common room, James walking right next to him all the while.

"Can you teach it to me? Is it a charm?" James asked, and then added lowly, "Because I hate the dark arts."

"It's a charm, yes," Harry repeated with a nod, not at all surprised by what his father had told him. He remembered how Sirius informed him once that one of the reasons that James disliked Snape was because of the boy's penchant for the dark arts, which James had hated with a passion. "And I can teach it to you, sure."

"Go on," James prodded, gesturing for Harry to continue. He hoped that he would be able to learn it as soon as possible, believing it to be useful in a wide variety of areas.

"You mean right now? Right here?" Harry asked surprised, stopping in the middle of the hallway as many other Ravenclaws were walking around him and up to the common room.

"Why not?" James shrugged, not seeing the harm, as Remus and Sirius came up behind them, joining the duo.

Harry moved his gaze over Sirius and Remus, trying to stop the smile that was appearing on his face. "Okay," He said, turning his attention back to his father, who fixed his glasses while he waited for Harry to continue. "It's called the Sleepy Charm, and it makes people tired and weaker. The more tired they are naturally, the more it affects them."

"Nice," Sirius muttered, knowing that it would be used wisely, and broadly, against the Slytherins. Hitting a Slytherin with one of those spells would make it that much easier to hex them, he knew, as they would be too tired to even cast a simple Shield Charm to protect themselves.

"You saw the wand movements, right?" Harry questioned them, and after seeing James' nod, he finished by saying, "The incantation is 'enervate.' It takes a while to get it, so don't feel bad if it doesn't work at first. It works best as a nonverbal."

James took out his wand and practiced the wand movements a couple of times, before looking up to Harry to get a reaffirming nod. "Thanks, Dumbledore," He said smiling, slapping Harry on the back. "We're playing quidditch tomorrow afternoon, how about you get those Ravenclaw mates of yours to form a team and play us, what do you say? Consider it repayment for the spell."

Harry blinked at the offer, having never expected it. "Ah, sure," Harry said, trying not to be too enthusiastic, though inwardly giddy at the prospect of playing quidditch with his father again. "I'll ask if they want to play later."

"Okay, see you," James replied, turning around and walking off towards what Harry knew to be the Gryffindor tower. He toyed with his wand a few more times as he walked before pocketing it, apparently satisfied with his understanding of the wand movements.

"Later, Dumbledore," Sirius nodded to Harry, while Remus waved, each heading down the same the hall as James did moments prior.

With large smile on his face, Harry turned and headed into the Ravenclaw common room, excited at the developing friendship that he and his father had—while they weren't quite friends yet, he knew they were close. He went up to his bedroom, grabbed his Defense Against the Dark Arts book, and hopped into his bed, intending on reading in the comfort of his blankets. With his book held up on his legs, he began reading the chapter that was assigned for the next class, hoping to get it done as soon as he could in order to work on Dumbledore's notes. After nearly two hours of reading, Harry finished his assignment and jumped down into his trunk, knowing that he had to spend the rest of the night in there in order to catch up on his work.

The next morning, Harry sat in his chair in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; Professor Moonshine, meanwhile, was at her desk, staring at the students as they all took their seats. "Hello class, as a brush up before today's lecture, we should all remember that the dark charms incorporate the funny but irritating jinxes, the hurtful but ineffective hexes, and the worst of all forms of magic, the dangerous and powerful curses." Moonshine lectured, rising to her feet and walking to the front of the room where everyone could see her. "Today, we will be starting off our lessons of the history of curses by discussing the most evil of all curses, the one that spreads fear throughout the wizarding community: the Killing Curse."

"The worst of them all!" A student exclaimed, earning a nod from the professor. Nearly every student in the room had seen the horrors of the curse for themselves, having witnessed either someone kill with or be killed by the green light during the troubling times they grew up in, each affected by the war against Voldemort one way or another.

"The Killing Curse," Moonshine started slowly, planning on going into more depth about the history of the curse than many books on the subject did. She and the rest of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department had painstakingly researched the curse over the past week, spending countless of hours perusing the restricted section for the information that they needed. "Was invented by north African wizards in the early middle ages, around the year 600 or so, which is also known as the Dark Ages. Some say it was invented in order to fight against the Byzantine wizards that started to encroach into Africa, but we don't know the exact reason it was created—it could have been a flight of fancy for some dark, evil wizard for all we know. What we do know, however, is that it was and still is an extremely powerful spell that destroyed entire armies in single nights."

"It wasn't invented in Britain?" Rabastan Lestrange said, surprised by that revelation. He had thought that since it was so prevalent in the British wizarding world around them, it was the creation of a British wizard, not a wizard from some place else.

"Oh, no," Moonshine shook her head in the negative. "Most spells that we use today weren't. In fact, I'd estimate that you only have two or three spells in your entire arsenal that were actually created in Great Britain or Ireland. Admittedly, Britain has had its fair share, a tremendous amount in actuality, of great wizards and magical evolutions and inventions, but not everything magical comes from here."

"Then why do we know about it?" A female Gryffindor questioned, wondering why the spell was even known by them in the first place. "How come it didn't stay in north Africa?"

"I'll get to that," Moonshine smirked, admiring the curiosity of the class. She had anticipated many of their questions when planning her lecture, and knew that she would answer nearly every one during the lecture itself. "It was a relatively unknown spell, a secret for many centuries, and only entered the British wizarding lexicon after the Norman Invasion by William the Conqueror. William employed many Norman wizards, all of whom learned of the technique from the Moorish dark wizards south of them on the Iberian Peninsula, in exchange for land grants or other valuables. It's one of the very reasons why William was able to win: the curse was impossible to block, but the English wizards did not know that at the time since the masses had never heard of it or seen it before then. Who knew that all they had to do was pick up a muggle shield that was made of metal and they may have been protected from the curse, and maybe even stopped the invasion as a result."

Harry's ears perked up at the mention of William the Conqueror. He recalled how Bellatrix had mentioned the king's name when talking about the Malfoy estate, and briefly wondered if what Bellatrix and Moonshine had said were related to one another. His eyes drifted over to Bellatrix, who was lazily sitting in her chair in the center of the room, not looking like she was paying much attention. Shaking his head, he cleared his mind and turned his attention back to the professor, who had was now answering more questions from the students.

"Wizards and muggles fought together to stop the invasion?" Evan Rosier asked, a sneer appearing on his face as if the very thought of muggles and wizards interacting disgusted him.

"Oh yes," Moonshine nodded, educated to the fact that the world was a very different place before the Statute of Secrecy was adopted and wizards and muggles had to live in separate worlds as a result. "After all, the Norman invasion is probably the most well-known out of the few all out battles that involved both muggles and magical folk. William the Conqueror and Harold Godwinson both employed wizards, or mages as they were called in that context, spilling a lot of magical blood for a thoroughly unmagical war. While the muggles fought with spears and swords, and shields and armor at the Battle of Hastings, on the opposite side of the battlefield, hidden from muggle view, the wizards and witches fought with wands." Moonshine sighed, as if she was disappointed with what she was lecturing. "Overall, the Norman Invasion played a quintessential part the development of today's wizarding world, at least in this country, I mean. Without it, I'm not certain we would have many of the practices that we do today."

"When you said all they had to do was pick up a muggle shield, what do you mean by that?" Derrick asked confusedly, having always known the curse to be impossible to stop—once it came at you, you were dead. "I thought you couldn't block the Killing Curse?"

Moonshine shifted where she stood, a bit uncomfortable talking about actually executing the Killing Curse. It was not something she wanted to teach, as she knew that, potentially, some of her students would find the need to actually use it in their lifetime due to the war against Voldemort—what she didn't know as clearly was which side they would be fighting on. "The Killing Curse is impossible to block by magical shields, and I mean anything formed of and by magic. If you use the Shield Charm? It'll pass right through it as if you never summoned the shield in the first place. What about shield that is conjured, like what Mr. Dumbledore did in his duel against Mr. Longbottom not a week ago? It'll pass right through it, plus that conjuring spell isn't very common as it is. It's the only known spell that has that ability, as many spells would be blocked by a conjured shield. However, the Killing Curse can be blocked by natural objects of requisite thickness and is so unconnected to your body that it constitutes a separate article. What I mean by that is a solid metal shield, held away from you? It can block it, most likely, though obviously it depends on the circumstances. A papier-mâché shield on the other hand would be incinerated and you'd be dead. And it has to be unconnected to your body, as let's say you wore metal armor like a muggle knight, it is connected to your body enough that it'll just act as an extension to it and you will die if you are touched by the curse."

"Why doesn't a conjured shield work?" A student in the center of the room asked, not really understanding why a shield couldn't do what it was supposed to do in shielding someone from danger. She could somewhat understand why a magical shield made of energy didn't protect someone, but not why a conjured shield, made of the requisite thickness, couldn't protect someone.

"That's the design of the spell," Moonshine shrugged, being like the rest of the wizards and witches the world that were incapable of ascertaining how the Killing Curse did exactly what it did. "It's a very, very, very evil spell. There are other spells that kill in application, but none of them were outright designed to destroy the person who stood in its way—spells that are still known and used today, I mean. It's right there in the etymology of the curse: Avada Kedavra, which loosely translated means 'to be destroyed now'. It is, quite simply, the most evil and powerful curse there is; it goes against nature itself. Luckily, it takes a lot of power, concentration and emotion to perform, which prevents its broad usage, in addition to its immediate sentence to Azkaban, which also acts as a deterrent."

"How does the Killing Curse actually work?" Questioned the Hufflepuff Emma Wainscott, wondering why people couldn't be healed from the curse. As a future healer she was most interested in why, with all the healing spells in the world, the damage couldn't be undone and the death 'healed.' "I mean, how do you actually die? Does it separate your soul from your body or something?"

"It's a powerful curse, and there is no reason for the death. You're alive and then you're not." Moonshine shrugged once more, wanting to instill in them that their questions were unanswerable, that no one but the ancient mathmagician that invented the spell had the answers they sought. "The effect of the curse is death, nothing else. Like the effect of the entrail expelling curse is that your entrails are expelled from your body, or like the babbling curse makes you babble endlessly—there are no causes for these curses, they just do as they are said to do, like magic does."

Eventually the class ended and Wednesday night came, which found Harry sitting in front of the desk of Albus Dumbledore once more, a common occurrence since his return to Hogwarts for his seventh year. He had spent the entire day reading Dumbledore's notes in preparation for the meeting, not wanting to disappoint the older wizard in not being able to answer his questions as he had the previous week. He wanted to be organized, to be ready to answer any question or comment Dumbledore had for him, should the older wizard have a question regarding the future. So there he sat in the familiar seat, talking quietly with the headmaster, waiting patiently for the questions to come.

"How is your research coming along?" Dumbledore sure enough inquired late in the night, as their tongues started to tire and the conversation began to run dry. "Have you found the time to read anything?"

Harry gulped down as he stared at the headmaster, suddenly nervous about what he had to ask Dumbledore. "Yes, I have, thankfully. It's going good," Harry replied, not really knowing what to say in order to find out what he needed to find out. He knew it was a tender subject, and he didn't know whether Dumbledore would answer him or not, which made him hesitant to ask the question in the first place. "Sir, I've been going over your notes and books for a while now, but I still don't understand something."

"What is that?" Dumbledore inquired, keeping his gaze on Harry interestedly.

"What a horcrux actually is," Harry answered, finally admitting to the great wizard that he was ignorant about how Voldemort's horcruxes helped him and what purpose they actually served. He knew they dealt with murder and death, though he couldn't quite figure out their place in Voldemort's schemes. "I've looked and looked but there is nothing on the matter in the library. Admittedly, I haven't gotten through every single one of your books, page for page, but I feel like not knowing it is making me fall behind a bit."

"Against my beliefs," Dumbledore started, getting to his feet and walking over to a bookshelf that was behind his desk. He reached down to the bottom shelf and picked up a large tome with a cover as black as the night sky, before coming back over to his desk and retaking his seat. "I am going to answer that question. You see, once I became headmaster, I took the only book that mentioned horcrux out of the library, for fear of where it may lead. Do you have this tome in the books I gave to you in your own time?" He asked, allowing Harry to take a peek at it from his seat.

"I think I do, actually," Harry nodded, remembering having seen the cover once before. He had tossed it to the side upon seeing it since it felt evil and dark to him, and had only briefly thumbed through its pages, reading it preliminarily, having intended on studying it last along with a few other of the more unsavory books that Dumbledore had bequeathed him. However, in that thumbing over the months, he had never once seen the book go into any depth on the subject of horcruxes; instead he had only seen tiny blurbs that alluded to death and murder but nothing more.

"Page 178 will answer your questions," Dumbledore informed him, knowing the exact page that the author went into a deep discussion about the nature of horcruxes. The technique for splitting one's soul had bee in practice as far back as ancient Greece, but it had been the great wizard Herpo the Foul that had infused that soul bit into an object and created the first horcrux two and a half thousand years ago.

"Thank you," Harry said, handing the book back to Dumbledore, who placed it onto his desk and pushed it off to the side.

"Do you have any other questions regarding your research?" Dumbledore inquired, assuming that there were other things that Harry needed help with, as well.

"Just one," Harry replied, remembering the rune that he had Derrick translate for him months prior. While he knew what it meant, he did not know what it was referring to and why it was in the book in the first place, though he presumed that it was something important. "I came about a scribble in the margins of a Beetle the Bard story entitled the Tale of the Three Brothers."

Dumbledore squinted at Harry underneath his half-moon spectacles, instinctively shifting in his chair, as if Harry had said something wrong. "I know it very well," Dumbledore whispered, his voice carrying around the office. "Not one of my more favorite tales anymore, but I remember it fondly."

"This scribble was in ancient runes," Harry stated, before he was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"Right, just as the original version of the tale was written," Dumbledore noted, having personally translated an original copy of the tales written by Beedle into English one summer when he was still a student in Hogwarts.

"And when I translated it, I came up with kill inanimate, but when my friend Derrick, who is good in ancient runes, translated it, he came up with deadly objects at first and then changed it to deadly relics." Harry informed the headmaster, hoping the great wizard could answer his question and explain to him what the rune meant. "He said that it had a more holy connotation than objects allowed."

"This was in the Tale of the Three Brothers, you say?" Dumbledore asked, and after seeing Harry's nod, he grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and began to draw a large ancient rune in the center of the page. "Did it look like this?" He questioned, flipping the piece of parchment over and allowing Harry to see the rune that he drew.

"Yes, exactly that," Harry agreed with an enthusiastic nod, recognizing it from the book. It was the exact replica of the rune that Harry had showed Derrick to translate the previous Christmas break after he had read every tale in the book more than once in an effort to truly understand their meanings.

"It means deathly hallows," Dumbledore whispered, staring down at the rune, having long since grown accustomed to its appearance. "But deadly relics or relics of death are quite good translations, so give Derrick my regards." He replied, and then adding with a grin, he said, "Kill inanimate, not so much, though."

"True wisdom is not knowing everything, but rather knowing when to reach out for help," Harry grinned back, admitting to the fact that he was absolutely awful in the subject of Ancient Runes, having only preliminary knowledge of it from when Hermione had discussed it in his own time. In fact, he knew he was awful in most subjects, which was why he dedicated so much time to the ones that he did excel at and only took five N.E.W.T.s.

"Wise words," Dumbledore agreed with a nod, appreciating the wisdom behind what Harry had said. While many people didn't ask for help, he knew that asking for help was very important in everyday life, as no one, not even him in all of his admitted wisdom and cleverness, knew every facet of magic, a fact that was overlooked by the Dark Lord and would one day lead to his demise. "Humility is a forgotten magic in its own right."

Harry stayed silent, allowing Dumbledore the last word on the subject. "What does deathly hallows mean?" He inquired, not recognizing the term from anything he had ever heard before.

"Do you recall the details of the tale?" Dumbledore questioned, raising a curious eyebrow, wanting to know if Harry knew about the three brothers and their gifts from death.

"The Tale of the Three Brothers, you mean? Yeah," Harry nodded in the affirmative. "I read it over Christmas break last year."

"Do you remember the items given to the three brothers by Death?" Dumbledore questioned quietly, trying to prod Harry along, hoping that the boy could figure it out on his own. Many people came to him for answers, for knowledge, but he preferred to give them the knowledge they needed in order to ascertain the answer for themselves, rather than answer the question himself, feeling that it was much more beneficial to them if they did the work on their own. He recalled an old muggle proverb which he held closely to his heart that summed up his feelings on the matter nicely: give a man a fish, he feeds for a day, but teach a man to fish, he feeds for a lifetime.

"Yes…" Harry replied confusedly, wondering if the conversation was going the way he thought it was.

"Those objects, the wand, the stone, and the cloak, are the deathly hallows." Dumbledore lectured him, having plotted out the history of the Deathly Hallows along with Gellert Grindelwald as a youth. While he knew the entire lineage of the Elder Wand, the wand that he himself possessed, he only knew the history of the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak up until the early 1600s, when they were lost and all knowledge of them were untraceable as a result. "And they are real."

"Death's gifts? They're real?" Harry asked in a surprised tone, disbelieving that a being known as Death actually existed, let alone one that showed himself to mere mortals. After all, if conjuring a bridge and crossing a river was something that was so great as to beat death, then how come more wizards didn't come forward and say that Death approached them since what the three brothers had done was relatively minor? How many wizards or witches had escaped death by extinguishing flames that engulfed their homes, or disapparated from danger or something similar? Too many to count, Harry presumed, a fact that made him skeptical that Death actually came to the three brothers.

"Nearly every wizarding nation on Earth has legendary items that have great magical powers, Harry." Dumbledore informed him, referencing all of the great magical items that nations took great pride in and showed off to the world. "Like the Irish's Cauldron of Plenty, which never ran out of food after it was filled; or Germany's Goblet of Panacea, which could heal almost any wound with a drink; both, and countless of others, are legendary objects of their respective countries. In Britain, the legendary objects are those of the Deathly Hallows."

"And the three brothers?" Harry asked, wondering who they were and how they fit into all of this, outside of what the tale said of them.

"The Peverell brothers, I believe." Dumbledore recited knowingly, aware of Ignotus Peverell's tombstone in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, the hometown of all of the Peverells. The stone slab that marked the grave was ancient, dating back to the 1200s, and would be easily overlooked if not for the symbol of the Deathly Hallows that was ingrained into the rock for all to see but only a few to understand. "Look up the Peverell brothers, and next time, we'll discuss this in more depth."

"Very well," Harry agreed in exasperation, rising to his feet and preparing to leave the office. He knew when Dumbledore was telling him to figure something out for himself in an effort to make him a better, more knowledgeable wizard, but it still annoyed him that he could never just get a straight answer. "I'll see you later, professor."

"Bye Harry," Dumbledore grinned, watching as the boy waved and exited the room, closing the door behind him as he went. Shaking his head, he got up from his seat and walked over to the fireplace, before taking a handful of powder, tossing it into the flames and stepping into the green fire, disappearing in a flash.

The next day, Harry spent his free morning in the confines of his trunk, deciding to research all of the various questions that were rampant in his mind: horcruxes, the Peverell Brothers, and the Deathly Hallows. In front of him rested the book that Dumbledore had showed him the night prior, opened to the specific page that the great wizard had pointed out to him. Entitled 'Magick Moste Evile', it was a dusty and evil book that emanated magic that Harry did not know existed, magic that was so dark that he doubted only but a few dark wizards had both the foolishness and the courage to perform the spells in the book.

Harry moved his finger down page 178, trying to find the paragraph that detailed the horcruxes. He found it at the bottom, where there was a blurb that carried onto the next page—it was a small, and unless one was looking specifically for it, it was easily missed. "A horcrux is a receptacle for a piece of soul that is split from the body of a dark wizard, which is used in an effort to attain immortality. As long as the receptacle is not irreparably harmed and the piece of soul stays contained, the dark wizard's soul is tethered to Earth and does not move on after death, allowing the wizard continued life, even after his body is destroyed." He read out loud, his stomach growing queasier with each passing word, disgusted by the process that the book outlined in creating a horcrux.

"That's how he survived the Killing Curse rebounding on him," He murmured, finally understanding how Voldemort had survived that fateful Halloween night. Very few people ever realized that it wasn't just a wonder how Harry survived the Killing Curse, but also how Voldemort himself survived its rebound upon him—a normal person would have died and stayed dead after getting hit with such a curse.

Having gotten the information he needed, Harry closed the book and pushed it off to the side, a bit disgusted by the process that a wizard had to go through in order to create a horcrux. His stomach was churning and he was doing all that he could to keep from belching, unable to understand how someone could be so evil to commit the atrocity of splitting a soul and creating a horcux. It went against nature itself, as a soul was supposed to stay intact, whole, not be maimed and tortured like Voldemort had done to his own soul. Shaking his head to clear away the thoughts, he got up and walked over to the bookshelf on his right, running a finger over the spines of a few of the older volumes that were taken from Grimmauld Place.

Finding an ancient genealogy tome that the Blacks had used to keep their blood pure, he swiftly picked it off of the shelf and carried it back to the table in the center of the chamber, intent on finding out who exactly the Peverells were. He searched the chapter index and scrolled through the chapters, hoping that he could find a reference to the Peverell name. Upon reaching chapter 14, he saw that the title of the chapter was 'Extinct Male Lineage', and assuming that the Peverells were not still around since he had never heard of them before the previous night; he flipped to the chapter and began reading.

The Peverells, he found out, were an ancient family of wizards that first appeared in the eleventh century, their origins before that time being unknown. The name died out quickly, with the last known Peverell being Ignotus Peverell, who died in 1292 at the age of 79, leaving one son—that son died years later, leaving his lone daughter as an heir. He turned back a page and saw that Ignotus was one of a set of triplets born in 1212, with his two older brothers being Antioch and Cadmus, Antioch being born first, each of whom had a single daughter to carry on their lineage. Antioch and Cadmus date of deaths were not listed, though Harry assumed that they had died earlier than Ignotus as their entries were much briefer than their younger brother's.

Harry doubted that the Peverell brothers that Dumbledore had alluded to were brothers other than the Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. There was only a two hundred or so year window that the Peverell brothers could come from, between the 1100s when the name first appeared and the late 1300s when the name died out with Ignotus' son. So with the mystery of who the Peverell brothers were solved for the time being, he briefly wondered just what made them special, what made them important. He still doubted very much that the story of the Tale of the Three Brothers was true, but since he had no idea how old Antioch and Cadmus were at the time of their death, he couldn't even guess as to how much time they had in their life to accomplish anything of great importance, actions that would warrant having a story written about them. Were they that great that they could die young and still be known years later? Or was their history inflated due to a lack of real information about them, with relatively minor accomplishments being transformed into much greater deeds over time? With a confused sigh, he closed the book and moved onto his next quest, knowing that he wouldn't come up with an answer on his own as to what the Peverells did.

He then spent the next half hour searching for a book that would have some information about the Deathly Hallows. He looked in Athelstan Prince's Treasures and Trinkets: The Complete Guide to Enchanting Curios, who simply mentioned them as myth but did not say anything else about them—although it did go into much depth about Hufflepuff's cup. Next, he searched in a book that told of the genealogies of wizarding families in the middle ages, but again, he did not come up with anything that related to the Peverells, let alone mention the Deathly Hallows. Finally, he turned to another book about famous wizards of the middle ages, hoping to find the names of the Peverells there as he presumed they had to have been known as great wizards in order to accomplish what they apparently accomplished in beating Death.

That search too came up fruitless, leaving him perplexed on where he could find more information. As such, after noticing the time, he closed his book and readied himself for class, realizing he only had about fifteen minutes before his afternoon class was to start. He headed over to the ladder and climbed upwards, throwing off the lid of his trunk as he reached the top. As Harry jumped out of his trunk, he noticed that a house elf that he did not know was staring right back at him with green eyes shaped like pears, which were wide in surprise at Harry's sudden appearance. "Beg your pardon, sir, didn't see you here, apologies." The elf bowed respectively, having not expected Harry to be in the room since he could not sense him within his trunk.

"Why are you sorry?" Harry replied, confusedly, wondering why the house elf was apologizing. "It's not a problem, really."

"Thank you, sir," The elf said, his voice squeaky and timid.

"I'm Harry, Harry Dumbledore," Harry introduced himself, reaching his hand out for the elf to shake.

Tentatively, the elf reached out his own small hand and shook Harry's own, at first slowly and then gradually more enthusiastically than most wizards would. "I knows, sir, I's known you since you first arrived at Hogwarts." He replied, turning his attention away from his work and over to Harry, who towered above him—Harry was as tall to him as Hagrid was tall to most humans.

"You have?" Harry questioned with a cocked eyebrow, wondering how the elf knew him when they had never met as far as he knew.

"Oh yes, sir," said the elf in the affirmative, nodding his head all the while. "I has been cleaning your room every day when you all are in class."

"That's you?" Harry replied in a surprised tone, astonished that he had never seen the elf before. Then again, he reasoned, elves took great pride in not being seen or heard while they did their duties—except for Dobby, who loved being around people and being free, unlike most of his brethren. "Thank you. I didn't catch your name…"

"Bustle, sir," The elf bowed deeply, as if he was a herald introducing a king.

"Your name is Bustle?" Harry repeated, raising a curious eyebrow, thinking it a strange name. He had never before heard of a house elf name like that—he had heard of Winky, Kreacher, and of course, Dobby, but never one such as Bustle.

"Yes, sir," The house elf nodded proudly, his long ears flapping through the air all the while.

"Okay then Bustle," Harry smiled, laughing slightly at the elf's antics. The elf seemed nice and happy, rather than taking himself too seriously, which was refreshing to Harry. "It's nice to meet you."

"You're a good wizard, sir," Bustle replied in a jolly tone, knowing that many wizards wouldn't have thought what Harry said, let alone actually say it out loud. "Bustle likes you."

"Thank you, Bustle, I like you too," Harry grinned, appreciating the elf's honesty. "So when did you come to Hogwarts?" Harry asked conversationally, taking a liking to the elf because he reminded him a lot of Dobby.

"When Bustle's master freed him before she died," Bustle replied, looking at Harry with his pear-like eyes, still clearly saddened by his loss. "That was ten years ago, if Bustle remembers correctly." Bustle returned to his cleaning, gesturing towards the windows where a bottle of water levitated into the air and sprayed its contents onto the glass. "Bustle likes Hogwarts, but misses his master."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry frowned as a great wave of empathy stole over him, aware of the pain that loss brought to a person, whether it is man or elf. He remembered how he felt immediately after Sirius' death, it was as if an icy hand had gripped his heart and squeezed tightly down on it. With time, that feeling dissipated, but the frightening sense of regret still lingered on inside of him and steered his life daily. "She was a good person to you then?"

"The best, sir," Bustle said, turning around and nodding his head vigorously. "She let Bustle see his family every Sunday and whenever else he wanted."

"And you can't do that now?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow, unbelieving that someone as noble as Dumbledore wouldn't allow the elf to leave one day a week if the elf so desired.

"Oh, no, sir," Bustle shook his head back and forth, not wanting Harry to think that he wasn't allowed. "Bustle can, because Master Dumbledore is a good wizard, too, just like you and Bustle's old master."

"Who was she?" Harry asked interestedly, not knowing how many witches that had a house elf actually treated them with respect and dignity. From his experience, only the rich pureblooded families had house elves, and all of them seemed to treat their helpers like dirt, like lesser beings than wizarding kind. It was uplifting to him to find out that there were good people out there, people who took care of those around them, rather than look at elves with disdain like the Malfoys did Dobby.

"Lycoris Black, sir," Bustle said, finally going back to his cleaning in full. He snapped his fingers and three cleaning rags appeared, swiping away the dust from the top part of the beds, as he manually folded laundry in the center of the room.

Harry shook his head at the mention of the Blacks, inwardly wondering about his luck in having a former house elf of the family be the one to clean his room, and then stared at Bustle, watching the miniature elf work for a few moments before he reached down and grabbed his bag. "It was nice meeting you, Bustle, I'll see you later. Feel free to say hi whenever you want," He suggested, throwing the bag over his shoulder and making his way over to the door.

"Will do, sir," Bustle replied, facing Harry and giving him a large smile. "Bustle is glad to meet such a good wizard, sir." Harry grinned and waved, leaving the room, skipping down the stairs two by two and entering the common room. _Who is Lycoris Black_, he questioned to himself as he walked out of the common room and down to his potions classroom, where he had a double session with the Gryffindors.

It was Friday night that found him eating dinner in the Great Hall, talking animatedly with Derrick, who was nervous about the coming quidditch tryouts that were to take place the next day. Harry tried to assure his friend that he had a great chance of making the team, trying to ease his nerves, but Derrick wouldn't hear it and ran out of hall without touching his food, apparently too queasy to eat. When Harry himself was finished with his food, he grabbed his bag from the ground, excused himself from the table and walked up to the library, hoping to get a bit of work done in an effort to keep his mind off of the black haired teenager that continued to plague his thoughts.

Bellatrix continued to ignore Harry, never once replying to him whether or not she would keep his secret as he had requested. He had only seen her in class, where she had turned her attention away from him when he raised an eyebrow her way. He wondered if he had done the right thing, showing her what she was to become if she continued on the path that she had started with her blood purity madness, showing her what her future had in store. He hoped that he did do the right thing, but he dared not question her about it further until she was ready to talk to him about it, if she ever was. After all, unless handled properly, he could create the very monster he was hoping to prevent.

As he arrived at his destination, his thoughts drifted over to Greta, whose birthday was soon coming, as summer turned into autumn. He knew that he had to get her a gift, so with that in mind, he briefly went over gift ideas in his mind, trying to think about one that was friendly, but not something that was expensive or serious. He walked through the stacks of magical books, searching for one that related to the Deathly Hallows as he thought about Greta's present. Eventually, he found a biography of Beedle the Bard and picked out. He brought it back to his table and decided to think about Greta's present later as he cracked open the Beedle biography and started to read, hoping to find some semblance of where Beedle had heard about the Deathly Hallows.

Stifling a yawn, Harry exited the library, having spent the entire night in there. He started walking towards the Ravenclaw common room, not expecting to see anyone as it was late, but suddenly heard someone walking near him. As he turned around the corner, there right in front of him on the far side of the hall was Bellatrix, apparently on her rounds as Head Girl. In the darkness, she had yet to see him as she was walking down the same hallway, heading straight towards him. When she neared, their eyes met, and surprisingly, she did not look away this time as she had been doing for the past couple of weeks, ever since Harry revealed his secret to her. "Hi," He said as he came to a stop in the middle of the hall, not knowing if she wanted to speak with him or not.

Bellatrix continued on towards him, silently, before she slowed her pace, seemingly deciding something. They stared at each other briefly, their eyes lingering for a moment or two, before she took a couple more steps closer. "Hi," She said in response, coming to a halt a few feet away from Harry, releasing the tension that had been mounting in Harry's chest.

Harry released the breath he was holding and raised an eyebrow, happy that she stopped ignoring him and finally responded to him. "How are you?" He asked amiably, curious as to how she had been for the past few weeks.

"I'm okay, I guess, and you?" Bellatrix replied weakly, her tone not filled with the same energy that Harry had come to know.

"Is something wrong? Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't…I shouldn't…I'm sorry." Harry gushed, shrugging his shoulders while he struggled to find words, not really knowing what to say or how to say it. He didn't exactly know why she had reacted the way she had reacted, what specifically set the course of her actions or even if he had to apologize to her in the first place, but he figured it was best that she knew he was sorry for whatever it was that he had done.

"Its not you," Bellatrix whispered as she stared down at the floor, before looking up and meeting his gaze. "Let's just forget it, okay?"

"That's fine," Harry agreed, happy that she was back to talking to him again, but knowing that she would still need more space to decompress after all that she saw. It was a lot, he knew, perhaps too much, which made it hard to understand for someone that didn't live it for themselves. "I want to talk to you, but not necessarily about it."

"Are you coming back from the library or something?" Bellatrix questioned, as she gestured for Harry to walk with her, which he willingly did. They made their way down the hall, turning a corner and heading towards the east wing of the school, where Bellatrix was assigned for her nightly rounds.

"Yeah," Harry nodded in the affirmative. "I was reading about something the other day and I wanted to see if the library had any books on the subject." He replied, hiding the fact that he was looking for information about the Peverell brothers and their connection to the Deathly Hallows.

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow, wondering why the secrecy. "What was it?"

"Nothing," Harry smiled mysteriously, not daring to tell her about his quest to find out about the Peverells.

"Don't make me legilimens it out," Bellatrix grinned back, jokingly threatening him. Then, seeing that he had his bag, she cocked an eyebrow, recognizing how lightly it sat upon his shoulder. "That doesn't seem heavy enough to be carrying books."

"That's because its not," Harry replied, taking his bag off of his shoulder and unzipping it to reveal an invisibility cloak.

"That's not what I think it is, is it?" Bellatrix asked, as she tentatively reached out and ran a hand over the fabric, which felt a lot like silk in her palm. Gently, her forefinger and thumb glided along its edge, noticing that it moved like water, which was much different than how a normal cloak would move.

"An invisibility cloak," Harry said as he watched her toy with it, remembering how Ron had reacted when he first saw the cloak for himself—it wasn't much different than Bellatrix. "I use it to get into the restricted section in the library sometimes."

"You have one of those?" Bellatrix shrieked in surprise as she pulled her hand back like the cloak was about to bite her. She knew that invisibility cloaks were very rare and expensive, so rare in fact that she had never seen one for herself; as such, it came as a great shock to her to gaze at one thrown so unceremoniously in a bag.

"Yup," Harry laughed, as he pushed his cloak back in his bag and zipped it up, hiding it from sight. Then, looking down at his pocket watch, he realized that he only had about twenty minutes to get back to the Ravenclaw common room. "I should get going, it's almost curfew."

"So what?" Bellatrix snickered loudly; rolling her eyes at Harry's seeming lack of adventure. "You're with me, you won't get in trouble."

"I didn't realize the Head Girl had that kind of power," Harry noted, having never heard about a perk like that. The Head Girl had the right to use the prefect bathroom, to be out after hours, dock house points, and be in some restricted areas that other students couldn't, but he had no idea that they could also delegate their powers, as well.

"They didn't before right now," Bellatrix replied with a smirk, knowing that Harry would probably indeed get in trouble if someone else found him out with her, except for maybe Frank, who was on the opposite side of the castle, doing his own Head Boy duties.

"Still, I should go, I don't want either one of us in trouble." Harry muttered as he began to turn around; he stopped, though, when Bellatrix reached out and grabbed his hand, turning him back around to face her.

"Stay with me." She said, taking a step closer to him, now just a foot or so away. She stared back up at him, daring him to leave with her gaze, though Harry had no intention of turning away.

They stood face to face for a moment, each not backing up from the other. Harry looked down into her violet eyes, his hand still in hers, and gulped down the ball that was in his throat. Instinctively, they both started moving closer and closer to one another, as if drawn by some cosmic force. And then, before he knew it, he felt his face moving towards hers as his free hand moved up to cup the right side of her face. With his eyes closed, he brought his lips up to hers, and they began to kiss, at first softly and then progressively more passionately.

Their lips explored each other's, their hot breath rushing against the other's cheek. "I'm not going to become one of your goody goodies like you, you know," Bellatrix gasped, pulling away from him for a brief moment.

"I would never ask you to," Harry replied, backing her up against the wall and kissing her once more; she passionately returned the kiss, hungrily tasting his lips. "Just don't become the woman who haunted my dreams." He said, closing his eyes once more and continuing to kiss her.

After a few more moments of passion, she pulled away and straightened her robes, giving him a small smile as she started to walk down the hall as if nothing had happened. Harry followed next to her, silently watching as she went about her duties, apparently taking her status as Head Girl seriously, waiting for her to say something. "I guess you can ask the question I know you're dying to ask," Bellatrix whispered, giving him a sideways glance as they slowly rounded a corner into another hallway. There was a tense atmosphere between them, something that had never existed before Harry told her the truth, or more accurately, before they had kissed.

Harry looked over to her, biting his lip in apprehension, uncertain on what to do. "You sure?" He asked, recalling how she didn't want to discuss it just moments prior. "I thought you didn't want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather get it out of the way, if I'm being honest," Bellatrix whispered, not wanting to push off the awkward conversations any longer. She had a lot of questions for him, and she assumed he had a lot of questions for her, ones that she didn't know if she'd be able to answer.

"Why did you start talking to me again? Why did you stop in the first place? Was it everything that I showed you or something specific?" Harry asked in a rush, wanting to know why she had ignored him all this time. "It wasn't because I used the Cruciatus on you, was it?" He asked, fearfully, knowing that using such a curse on someone could be devastating to the inherent trust between the pair.

"It wasn't the Cruciatus or even really the fact that you're a time traveler," Bellatrix said with a shake of her head, having long since accepted that using the Unforgivables were sometimes forgivable, even if they were used against her. "Although, I'm still not quite sure I get that just yet. Believing it and getting it are two very different things, I reckon."

"Understandable," Harry admitted, seeing how fantastical the story was—traveling back in time a day is almost unbelievable, let alone twenty-one years.

"It wasn't even the fact that you showed my own future, apparently doing horrible things that deserved a life imprisonment in Azkaban, things that I have no idea about why or where or how they happened," Bellatrix said, her voice rising in tone as she grew nearer and nearer to telling him the reason why she had ignored him. "Or that I was a Death Eater."

"Then what?" Harry inquired with a confused look on his face; he didn't know what else there was for her to ignore him as she had named most of the things he expected her to say.

"It was the fact that you knew me," Bellatrix answered simply. "The fact that I was older when you first met me, that the first time I met you wasn't the first time you met me. It…kind of pulls the carpet right out from under you. It was the fact that everything I know, or knew about you, probably wasn't true."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought, trying to figure out what she meant by that exactly. Did she mean that she wanted him to admit that he was a time traveler the first day he saw her? Surely, she couldn't be saying that, could she? "And what changed?" He asked quickly, wanting to know what caused her to start talking to him again.

"Honestly?" Bellatrix said, looking over to him with a small smile playing on her pink lips. "I promised myself that I wouldn't do this until I knew it was right for me, but…I've never felt anything like this for a boy, and there was no point in fighting it—that doesn't mean I'm not confused and more than a tad angry at you, because I am, but ignoring you wasn't helping me."

"It wasn't helping me, either." Harry smiled, a great happiness rising inside of him at the knowledge that Bellatrix had feelings for him, however miniscule. While it was true that he had feelings for Cho and they had shared a kiss under the mistletoe, he never knew whether Cho actually liked him for him or only liked him because of his name and the fact that he could talk about Cedric's death. This, however, was different, Bellatrix was different—she didn't know about his fame, nor did she care for him to regale her with tales of danger. Instead, she liked him because they had a connection, one based on being able to make the other laugh and smile.

"I have lots of questions for you," Bellatrix whispered as numerous thoughts popped into her mind, wonderings that had been plaguing her mind since he first revealed to her the truth about his time traveling.

"Ask away," Harry nodded, being willing to answer whatever it is she wanted to ask since she herself answered his questions just moments ago. "And, just so you know, the only thing that was a lie was my name and my parentage, that's it. Everything else, everything, was the truth, I promise you."

Bellatrix stopped walking as she heard footsteps coming from down the hall, a pensive expression on her face as she tried to think about who it could be. "Not here," She finally shook her head, before grabbing his hand and rushing him the opposite way from the footsteps, and then up to the seventh floor. She quickly walked back and forth in front of the troll tapestry, following Harry's lead from two weeks prior. When the wooden door appeared on the wall with a pop, they both walked over to it and headed inside, Harry wondering what exactly she asked for. "What the…?" Bellatrix questioned with wide, confused eyes, as she looked around the room, surprised by what met her. "What is this place?"

"What did you ask for?" Harry asked, his gaze moving around the room, trying to figure out what had happened. The Room of Requirement was very different from anything he had ever experienced before, being much larger and more detailed than his last few uses of the room had been.

"That we needed a place to hide and talk," Bellatrix said, looking over at Harry, who stood a few feet away from her. Upon seeing his face, she raised a questioning eyebrow, wondering what he knew. "What is it?"

"You have to be specific," Harry informed her, shaking his head disappointedly. "You have to really think about what you want, because if you give generalities like this, you don't get what you want, apparently."

"Still," Bellatrix whispered, as she took a few steps forward and grabbed a book off of a pile of books that was next to the doorway. She looked down at the book in her hands, noticing that it seemed to be hundreds of years old, much older than most books in the library were, and then tossed it off to the side. "What is this place?"

"Don't know," Harry replied with a shrug, interested in what they had stumbled upon.

The room was the size of a large cathedral, with high arching windows that were sending shafts of moonlight down upon a city of towering walls. These walls, which were as tall as most ceilings, were composed of objects of varying ages and uses, ranging from old tea kettles to dark arts books, from instruments made from the finest silver to clothes patched together from dirtied rags. There were thousands and thousands of books, which were all seemingly banned; damaged, broken-down furniture that were missing legs; and robes gnawed by the passage of time. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, chipped bottles of congealed potions and corked bottles of shimmering substances, tapestries whose colors had been faded with age, as well as rusting swords, bloodstained axes, and mountains of hats, jewels, and cloaks.

They moved further into the room, walking through the thin alleys that were created between the towers of objects, noticing that the room was filled with a random assortment of things from history, ranging in age from medieval times to relatively recent times. The went deeper into the reaches of the treasure trove, passing an enormous stuffed troll, broken cupboards, and cages filled with skeletons that had five legs, remnants of a long since dead animals. "This place has a lot of junk," Bellatrix said, sneering at the sight of the skeletons, disgusted at the thought of the dead animal. She moved forward towards a chest of riches, and picked up a large silver ring that was missing its stone. She dared not put it on her finger, not knowing what it could or would do to her if she did, but she stared at it interestedly, admiring its beauty.

Harry's eyes ran over the pile of jewels in front of which Bellatrix was standing, wondering who would leave such precious objects and abandon them like they appeared to have been. The pile had countless of chipped gems, cracked jewelry, and what seemed to be a dusty gold crown and a tarnished silver tiara sitting on top of the pile, each encrusted with what used to be fine jewels. Regardless of their banged up nature, all of the jewelry and precious metals had incredible value even in the magical world, as wizarding folk could not conjure them without each disappearing within hours. "I guess other people needing a place to hide, too." Harry said, realizing just what the room was: both the hiding place and the lost and found of Hogwarts.

"I wonder how many old books are in this place," She whispered, seeing pillars upon pillars of books in the distance, like a muggle skyline of the tallest, most wonderful skyscrapers the world had to offer.

"Thousands," Harry shrugged, unable to even guess the count more specifically than a vague number. After all, Hogwarts had been around for a thousand years, with thousands of students roaming about the halls each decade, and if each left just a single book, it would be too numerous to count, and that was just a conservative estimate in Harry's opinion. "Do you want to talk?"

"Ah, sure," Bellatrix replied, prying her eyes away from the room and back to Harry. She headed back towards the entrance of the room, gesturing for Harry to follow her, walking through the alley of junk until they reached the door. They exited the room, the door disappearing as soon as they left and the wall turning back to a blank face of stone as if nothing had been there in the first place. Trying again, Bellatrix walked back and forth in front of the troll tapestry, all the while thinking about the same room they had when Harry had first summoned the room, the one with the couches, chairs, coffee table, and fireplace. Sure enough, after her third pass, a door popped up on the stone wall once more, granting them access to the hidden room.

The chamber was basically the same as when Harry had created it, except perhaps decorated with darker tones to more suit Bellatrix's preferences. The walls were blank and colored in a deep green, the floors made of a dark mahogany wood and the couches were of black leather, though they looked just as comfortable as cloth couches would. Overall, Harry noted, the room gave him great insight into Bellatrix's tastes, and he immediately saw that she liked earthly tones, rather than the bright colors that others preferred, ones that brightened the mood of many.

"So you were saying before…" Harry said, starting the conversation as he got comfortable in one of the couches. He sat across from her, keeping his distance, not really knowing what to expect about what she was going to say. While he didn't think he was about to hear something bad, he was cognizant of the fact that she had admitted that she was angry at him, leaving a decent possibility of him being yelled at.

"It wasn't the Cruciatus Curse that you used on me, or even what I did in your memories that made me ignore you." Bellatrix started, slipping her shoes off and bringing her legs up onto the couch, sitting with them crossed in front of her. "It was actually the fact that you knew me, it made me question things."

Harry looked down at her shoes on the floor in front of her, leather loafers, and gave a small smile at them, glad that she felt comfortable enough to do that. "Like what?" He questioned, drawing his attention back to her face.

"Neither here nor there anymore," Bellatrix whispered, shaking her head, not admitting to him what it made her question. "It was just a lot to take in, and I was kind of thinking about it and if I would have said hello to you or even notice your existence, it would have been like a distraction."

"I'm glad you told me this," Harry replied, not prodding into the questions that she was asking herself any further, knowing that they were probably deeply personal issues. If she wanted to tell him, he knew that she would eventually, and as such, he didn't need to badger her about it. "I've missed you."

Bellatrix gazed at the fire for a moment, before looking up at him, her brows furrowed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly," Harry nodded; allowing her to ask whatever it was that was on her mind. There was very little he would hide about himself from her, having already revealed to her his deepest, darkest secrets.

"Why did you decide to show them to me, the memories I mean?" She questioned in a voice that Harry couldn't quite place.

"I felt that you needed to see them if we were going to try and, I don't know, explore whatever it is that we're feeling for each other." Harry answered honestly, feeling that it was best to be blunt with her, rather than hide anything. "I didn't want to get close to you and have this lie hidden inside of me."

Bellatrix stayed silent for a few moments, seemingly accepting that answer. "So do you know everything that is going to happen?" She finally questioned softy. "What happens to me? What happens to my family? What happens in the war?"

"Not the war, no," Harry shook his head in the negative, not knowing what actually did happen during Voldemort's first rise to power. He had never researched it during his own time, and the adults that had lived through it were hesitant to discuss it with anyone, let alone someone as young as he was.

"But I thought you said you beat the Dark Lord, that you defeated him." Bellatrix said, more of a statement than a question. If he had defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, then how could he come back years later? She had no idea how one could escape death like Voldemort had seemed to accomplish, and from her understanding of magic, it was impossible: once someone was dead, they were dead for good.

"I did," Harry nodded in agreement. "But he came back. He just announced his return to the public a month before I came back in time. He had been hiding from the Ministry before that."

"How is that possible, I thought you said you killed him as a baby?" She asked in a perplexed tone, confused by what had happened between Harry and the Dark Lord in the past—or from her point of view, the future.

"No, he lived on as something…not a ghost, but not a spirit." Harry answered, furrowing his brow in an effort to best explain what happened. He didn't' want to tell her about horcruxes, so he tried to stay as vague as he could be in his answer. "I'm not really sure what he was, all I know is that he lived on."

"That last memory, the one with those globes, the Dark Lord was alive at that time?" Bellatrix inquired, trying to see if she had the correct story. "Why did he not just come and get what I…what they were trying to get himself?"

"Voldemort was in hiding…" Harry answered, ignoring that she was going to say I.

"Stop saying his name!" Bellatrix hissed, her eyes shifting about, as if Voldemort was going to appear.

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Harry replied dryly, paraphrasing the mantra that Dumbledore had lectured to him all those years ago when he sat in his bed in the infirmary ward at the end of his first year after having stopped Voldemort from procuring the Philosopher's Stone. "I do not fear Voldemort. I detest him, I think he is a coward, I'm disgusted by him, and I pity him, but I do not fear him."

"Whatever, go on." Bellatrix gestured with her hands as she rolled her eyes.

Harry grinned at her reluctance to the say the name, not taking it as anything but fear of the dark wizard, rather than respect for him. "He was in hiding, people didn't know he was back and they were attributing everything to Sirius, so why would he show himself and ruin the willful ignorance of the Ministry?"

"What does Sirius have to do with this again?" Bellatrix questioned, raising an eyebrow, not remembering why Sirius was lumped in with the Death Eaters. She had grown up with him, seeing him at least once a week when they were children, and he was nothing like the rest of the Blacks—he liked muggle clothes and muggle technology, a far fry from the purist mentality of the rest of the family and even further away from the ideology for the Death Eaters.

"He was known as Voldemort's most powerful Death Eater, his most dangerous servant at the time." Harry answered with a slight scowl, disliking how his godfather was ever portrayed as anything but the noble and reckless good wizard that he was. "It was all bollocks, of course, he was framed for a crime that he did not commit and sentenced to life in Azkaban, but he escaped after thirteen years or so. Of course, as fate would have it, through a series of events, Voldemort came back about two years later, and because the Ministry couldn't find him, they attributed all of the evil that Voldemort was doing to Sirius instead. He was an easy scapegoat for them."

"So it seems," Bellatrix whispered, trying to figure out the story from the bits and pieces that Harry supplied her. "The connection that you had, the one that you needed occlumency to sever, it was to the Dark Lord, wasn't it?"

"Perceptive," Harry said, not going into anymore detail, not really knowing anything more about it himself. While Dumbledore had said he had ideas on the matter, he had yet to voice them to Harry, which left Harry just as ignorant as Bellatrix. "Voldemort was who I was trying to keep out, yes."

Bellatrix flinched at the name again, but did not voice her displeasure this time. "You say you don't fear him, but if not the Dark Lord, then what do you fear?"

"Dementors," Harry answered simply, knowing that if were to come across a boggart, it would take the form of a dementor.

"That explains the unnatural ability to summon a patronus that you have," Bellatrix noted, realizing that he probably learned how to summon a patronus in the first place in order to be able to overcome his biggest fear. After all, if there was a spell that could stop your biggest fear, who wouldn't learn it as quickly as they could?

"I still have yet to see your corporeal patronus, you know," Harry murmured, wondering what her patronus would look like. The last he witnessed of her technique, her patronus was nothing more than an incorporeal shield of silver mist that looked like dust in the air, one that would be easily overpowered by the effects of a dementor.

"You'll be waiting a long time then because I don't have one," Bellatrix answered with a shrug. "I've tried many times; all I can get is a misty shield."

"Maybe you need the real thing attacking you in order to get it corporeal," Harry informed her, believing that to be the case, recalling that he himself only first summoned a corporeal patronus when his life was in danger and he had the confidence of already knowing he could do it. "I'm sure it'll come."

Bellatrix nodded skeptically, not really believing that she ever would be able to produce a corporeal patronus, but not revealing her concerns. "What about the Death Eaters?"

"What about them?" Harry asked, wondering what she wanted to specifically know. He had a general idea of the identity of many of the Death Eaters, but he had limited knowledge to their actions and what they exactly did. "I know who most of them are, and I know what some of them have done, but not much."

"I see," Bellatrix nodded in understanding, biting her lip. "And who are they?" She asked, more to see what Harry knew than for her personal knowledge, having a few friends and acquaintances who were loyal Death Eaters, each of them old family friends that had known since childhood.

"Most of your friends," Harry replied, frowning in apprehension. He didn't like the direction the conversation was going, where it treaded on talking about Bellatrix's deeds as a Death Eater, something he did not want to discuss. "Let's not talk about that."

"Now I know why you hate Rodolphus," Belaltrix muttered with a small smile, recalling the dislike each one had with the other before Rodolphus was expelled from Hogwarts. The expulsion hadn't really affected Rodolphus all that much, as his father had gotten him another wand that same day and he had joined the Death Eaters immediately. Sure, while Rabastan had to take on the public face of the family outside of his father since Rodolphus had been disgraced, practically, it did not change anything in the wizard's life.

"That, and he's just an berk," Harry replied, making Bellatrix snort in laughter.

They both went silent for a moment, Bellatrix thinking of something else to ask and Harry waiting for her to voice her inquiry. "That scar that you had on your forehead in the memories," Bellatrix started, watching as Harry instinctively reached to it on the left side of his forehead. "Do you still have it? Where did you get it from?"

Harry jumped from his couch and stood in front of Bellatrix, before taking the witch's hand and bringing it up to his forehead; gently, he ran her fingers over the small, jagged lightning bolt-like scar that was hidden by Dumbledore's magic, allowing her to feel it for herself. He flinched at the contact, but it did not hurt him as it usually would, the sensation having dulled since he traveled back in time. "Yes, I still have it. It's from the curse that Voldemort used on me as a child, the one that rebounded onto him and defeated him."

"Which was?" Bellatrix prodded, trying to learn as much as she could. She had the basic idea of Harry's past: the Dark Lord had attacked him for some reason, and somehow, as a baby, he was able to defeat the dark wizard for a time, until Voldemort returned years later.

"The Killing Curse," Harry answered, to the great surprise of Bellatrix, who stared back at him with a shocked look on her face, understanding the implications of what he had said—he survived the Killing Curse. She had no idea how such a thing was possible, having always been told that the Killing Curse was entirely unblockable, except for hiding behind a physical object. Hadn't Professor Moonshine said that not a week prior in her Defense Against the Dark Arts class?

They spent the next half an hour talking, Harry answering whatever questions Bellatrix had, and Bellatrix trying to learn more about the future. While Harry did not reveal much outside of her own future, and even that was at a minimum, Bellatrix seemed okay with the answers she received, accepting that Harry couldn't and wouldn't tell her everything. As eleven o'clock came, they exited out of the Room of Requirement to bid goodnight and go their separate ways for the rest of the evening. "I have one last question," Bellatrix said, earning Harry's attention as he looked back at her with his blue and green eyes. "Why am I, I don't know, so different in your time?"

"I don't want to talk about that, Bellatrix," Harry whispered, knowing that it was a touchy subject that could elicit negative emotions. "I don't want to offend you or make you mad."

"You won't, I promise." Bellatrix affirmed him, knowing that she would be able to control her emotions and not take offense to whatever he said. Truthfully, she wanted to understand why she ranted when she was being thrown into Azkaban, rather than use her cunning to escape the punishment that came on her.

"Are you sure?" Harry questioned slowly, wanting her to be absolutely certain that she desired to hear the answer for herself.

"Yes," Bellatrix reassured him with a simple nod. She was confident that she could handle anything he told her, even if it was offensive in most other contexts.

_I think you're a completely different person_, Harry thought to himself with a small smile, noting the various differences he had noticed between the Bellatrix he knew from his own time and the one that was standing in front of him. "Well," Harry started slowly, trying to choose the words that would get his point across without offending her. "You once bragged to me that you were trained in the dark arts by Voldemort himself, which I think may have twisted your mind a bit. Add in your already, and I'm being honest here, considerable madness, plus the years wasting away in Azkaban, and boom, a crazy Bellatrix."

Bellatrix stayed silent for a moment, going over everything that he had said, before looking up at Harry and twisting her face into a playful scowl. "Think I'm mad, do you?" Bellatrix growled, pulling her wand out from her robes and holding it tightly in her right hand, pointing it towards him in a threatening manner.

"Ah," Harry murmured, shifting his eyes back and forth, looking for a place to go and a hide. "Yes?" He said, quickly turning around and running down the dark hall, letting out a loud laugh as Bellatrix sent a jinx his way.

Eventually, they were standing at the main stairway, each knowing that the other was going the opposite way. "You were right in showing me those memories; you just didn't do it with any tact. At all." Bellatrix informed him, understanding why he opened up to her about the future, but wishing he would have prepared her a bit more for it than he had.

"Did it the wrong way?" Harry grinned, agreeing that she was probably correct in the assessment of how he went about it. He knew that he was impulsive and he often flew by the seat of his pants, each of which were traits that he had been trying to stop since the night of Sirius death two years prior, but had yet to full master his brash nature. "I'll try it differently the next time I go back in time."

"Please do," Bellatrix murmured, taking a few steps down the stairs. "Goodnight, Dumbledore." She whispered, before turning around and making her way down to the dungeons below.

"Sweet dreams, Black." Harry said softly, watching her go. He gave a small smile, as he stared at the spot she just occupied, before throwing on his invisibility cloak and heading to his room.

A/N: Once again, if I get 30 reviews, I'll upload a new chapter next week. The next chapter will be a 'bridge' chapter, which will span the time between this chapter and the Christmas chapter and indeed be entitled "The Months Pass" or something akin, with me still being on schedule for the Christmas chapter to be up on Christmas day so long as you all review.


	27. Passing Time and the Marauder's Map

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: What Bellatrix and Harry are to each other and what they will become is briefly touched upon this chapter, but the next chapter, the Christmas chapter, is much more important in the grand scheme of the story.

S/N 2: Originally, this chapter was just supposed to be a few scenes to show the passage of time, but it somehow evolved into a monster and probably the longest chapter I'll have in this story.

Chapter 27: Passing Time and the Marauder's Map Predicament

The weekend came, and with it, the tryouts for the Ravenclaw quidditch team. While Harry wasn't trying out himself, he went down with Xenophilius to watch the rest of the Ravenclaws try their hand at making the team. Taking his seat in the Ravenclaw section of the bleachers, he saw that there were numerous people trying out for the keeper position, much more than he had anticipated. Wizard after wizard, witch after witch took their try, some good and others lacking, before Derrick flew into the ring, having been called forth by the Ravenclaw captain—a fifth year witch that Harry didn't know. In order to show his skills and have a chance to make the team, Derrick was to save five quaffle throws as best as he could, with the person with the highest amount of saves earning his or her spot on the team.

The Ravenclaw chasers flew around in the air as they prepared to pepper Derrick with shots, each with a look of complete concentration in their eyes, seemingly wanting to make the people work in order to earn their spot. They tossed it back and forth in an effort to distract Derrick, before, with one mighty toss, the chaser in the middle suddenly threw the quaffle at the hoop on the right. Derrick flew upwards and knocked the quaffle down with the tail end of his broom, blocking the first shot. The quaffle was returned to the chasers who again started to toss it amongst themselves, feigning shots every so often in an attempt to trick Derrick. After another two or threw tosses amongst each other, the quaffle found its way to a chaser that was floating high above, who swooped down towards the goalposts and threw the quaffle at the hoop in the middle. Derrick flew quickly towards it and caught the quaffle just before it entered the hoop, saving a goal and saving his chances at making the team.

Just as the two previous throws, the next two quaffle tosses were stopped by Derrick, albeit more easily, leaving the last throw to decide. The chasers circled back around to their spots in front of the hoop, the one to the left holding the quaffle in her hands. They again tossed it between them all, feigning shots, before the quaffle was released towards the right hoop. The last throw came at Derrick with great speed, nearly passing him by as he misread its path, but luckily, with his long arms he was just able to tip the quaffle away from the hoop. As a result of his action, the quaffle veered widely off course and missed the goal by a couple of feet, making Derrick five for five in saves.

With a large smile, Derrick proudly flew down onto the pitch to watch the other players, knowing that he had a great chance to make the team. Once every applicant had their try, it came down to three people, each of whom had saved the quaffle five times: a third year girl, a six year boy, and Derrick. The team kept throwing glances at all of the applicants as they talked about each one, filling each with nerves that didn't seem to go away. After a lengthy discussion between the team and the captain, Derrick was announced as the new keeper, with the third year girl being his sub. Derrick made sure to give his regards to the other two, before he released a loud yell of triumph, thrilled to have had finally made the team.

A few hours later, Harry was walking into his room, having spent most of the day in the library, studying for his potions assignment. The room was rowdy when he entered it, as guffaws of laughter erupted over a joke that Derrick had apparently said to Gaspard. Everyone was there, all sitting on their bed, watching Derrick anxiously, a large pile of glass bottles stacked up next to the boy's bed. "Is he drunk?" Harry asked curiously, taking off his top robe and sitting on his bed, as well, wondering what was up. He watched Derrick for a few minutes and couldn't help but smile, seeing the glaze that was over the wizard's eyes.

"Seems like it," Bertram nodded in agreement, also noticing the familiar look of someone who was drunk. He reached into the box that was on his lap, and tossed a bean from Bertie Bott's into the air and caught it in his mouth, before chomping down on it. "A little too much celebrating methinks."

"I think we have the best room in all of Hogwarts," Derrick said, staring at everyone in the room, meeting their gaze. They all raised eyebrows, wondering where he was going with it, all the while wearing amused expressions on their faces. "No, no, I mean it."

"Okay, Derrick," Gaspard said in an easy tone, allowing Derrick to continue. "And why is that?"

"We are all good at something different," Derrick drawled, his eyes halfway closed and his words slurred. "I'm good at Ancient Runes, you're the best boy in our year in Charms, Harry is bloody brilliant in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Xenophilius knows more about the history of magic than everyone in Hogwarts but the headmaster, and Bertram?" Everyone looked over at Bertram, who was still stuffing his face with Bertie Bott's beans, apparently unaware that they were looking at him. "Well, on second thought, what are you good at Bertram?"

"Um," Bertram murmured with a mouthful of beans, swallowing them down in one gulp. He face twisted in disgust as he tasted an ill-flavored bean, presumably vomit flavored as that was the only one that made people disgusted as much as Bertram seemed to be. "I'd be good at potions if I remembered to stir the cauldron like is needed," Bertram laughed at himself, knowing that it was true—he would be a skilled potion maker, if not for his inattentive nature.

"Stir the cauldron?" Gaspard whispered, looking down at the floor, a thought overcoming him. He briefly wondered why no one had invented a self-stirring cauldron as of yet, a cauldron that would do the stirring for a potion maker, rather than the witch or wizard having to it themselves. He figured there were plenty of wizarding folk who would be helped by such an object, as not everyone was a potions master, or even a mediocre potion maker.

"I remember that!" Derrick called out with a large grin forming on his face, recalling the incident that happened a few years prior. "Don't you, Gas? When Bertram blew up his cauldron in second year because he didn't stir properly and Slughorn yelled at him for days."

"What?" Gaspard replied, looking up, shaking the thoughts out of his mind for the time being. He knew he was on to something there, perhaps something that would make his career, but he needed to research it a little more as he didn't know if it was even possible. "Oh, yes, I do, nearly killed himself because of that." He finished, which erupted a round of laughter and a confused Harry.

Seeing the look of confusion on Harry's face, Bertram himself relayed to Harry the story about a mishap in potions that Bertram had during their second year. Apparently, while preparing some potion that called for twenty clockwise stirs, Bertram both over-stirred it and stirred in the wrong direction at times, which made the potion explode in his face. He wasn't hurt, except for the singing of his eyebrows, but he had to live with being laughed at for about a year or two after the incident. It was an event that made him dislike potions enough to not take the N.E.W.T-level course, even if it hurt his future career prospects.

"You know, I envy you guys," Derrick continued, looking towards Gaspard, Harry, and Bertram's side of the room. "I wish I was a half-blood, you guys have it the best."

"You Know Who doesn't seem to think so," Gaspard replied, making Harry snort quietly, knowing the irony of the statement. While Voldemort spewed his ideologies about blood purity, he himself was but a half-blood.

"I mean it," Derrick said, wishing that he himself was a half-blood, so he wasn't lumped in with Death Eaters whenever someone mentioned purebloods. Additionally, he was aware of the benefits that being a half-blood granted, things that many other witches and wizards overlooked. "Xenophilius knows about it, maybe, but when purebloods go out into the muggle world, we're totally lost. I have no idea how to use a pizza oven, yet I love muggle pizza. I have no idea how a toaster works, let alone more complicated things like a television. I don't know how to drive, and I have no idea what a carburetor does, and the only reason I know about the word is because I heard a mechanical mention it as I walked by a garage one day during the summer. "

"Pizza is good," Bertram grinned, rummaging through the Bertie Bott's box in his lap in order to find one that tasted like pizza, though he did not know if one existed.

"Not for nothing, but not many people know what a carburetor does, to be honest," Harry laughed, he himself being just as clueless as Derrick when it came to the many items found within a car. "And you mean a mechanic, not mechanical."

"That's exactly my point!" Derrick grinned, seeing how he barely even knew the words of the muggle world. "And muggleborns, I have nothing against them and they are just as much of wizards as we are, but they are at a somewhat disadvantage when they first enter the wizarding world, just as purebloods are when they enter the muggle world. But half-bloods? They have it all. They know about the muggle world most likely, know how to use technology, and they get to learn about the wizarding world from the day that they're born most of the time. All the most powerful wizards in the world should be half-bloods since they have the best of both worlds."

The rest of the night passed with similar conversations from Derrick with the boy expressing his many opinions. Harry found out that he was well liked by Derrick, apparently having grown to be somewhat idolized in magic ever since he beat the boy in the Ravenclaw dueling tournament the year before. Additionally, Harry had also learned that the boy had met a muggle girl in London over the summer and still communicated with her through the muggle post, and he was trying to learn as much as he could about the muggle world in order to ask her out on a date. Harry offered his help to Derrick in his effort to teach him about the muggle world, though Derrick had passed out before Harry received an answer.

On Wednesday afternoon, before Harry was to be in Dumbledore's office, Harry and Bellatrix met in the Room of Requirement, each knowing that they still had a lot to talk about, having not discussed all of it the previous time they were together. Harry didn't know what Bellatrix was exactly —was she his girlfriend or something less? Were they supposed to talk to each other whenever they saw one another or was a simple hi and a wave okay? Was he supposed to ask her out on a date or would they just hang out like normal?

Harry summoned the den that they had used the previous two times, and each took a seat on one of the couches, sitting a few feet away from each other. For a couple of seconds they stayed silent, each just looking at the other, before Bellatrix spoke up to cut the tension that had been building. "Something tells me you're going to make this really awkward, so I'll save us both from that," Bellatrix started with a smile, knowing the boy across from her had very few social skills of which to speak. While she wasn't much better, speaking her mind more than she should and saying things she shouldn't, she knew that her skills were enough to compensate for his given the situation.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Harry gave out a breath of relief, knowing that he would indeed screw things up if he were the one to do the talking. It wasn't that he was afraid to speak to her about it; it was more than he didn't know what to say and didn't want to embarrass himself by saying something stupid as a result.

"I just don't want anyone to know about this, not yet, okay?" Bellatrix asked, staring at Harry with her violet eyes, inwardly hoping that he would agree. "Just continue what we have been doing; saying hi when we see each other, talking when we're alone, coming here for privacy. It'll be simpler and better that way."

"Okay," Harry nodded, not seeing the harm in waiting until she was ready. After all, he himself didn't know how deeply he felt for her, and really didn't want to take it a step further only to realize his feelings were quite shallow. Plus, he liked what they did and enjoyed his time with her as it was. "I guess that's fine. You do like me, though, right? Because I once kissed a girl during my fifth year that I thought liked me, but now I'm not so sure that she did and I'd rather avoid that happening a second time."

"I don't like anyone, remember?" Bellatrix grinned, which Harry understood to mean that she did indeed like him, but she just couldn't admit it out loud. "I wouldn't have kissed you unless…you know."

"Good," Harry smiled, accepting her admission and not needing her to say anymore. It wasn't like he wanted her to admit her undying love for him, all he wanted was the comfort of knowing that he wasn't alone, that it wasn't unrequited interest.

"Now that we have that done, can we change topics?" Bellatrix asked, bringing her legs up and crossing them in front of her on the couch, relaxing a bit. "I still have a load of questions for you."

"Shoot," Harry said, wondering what else she wanted to know.

"When I was teaching you occlumency," Bellatrix whispered, thinking back to the sessions a year prior, when she invaded Harry's thoughts in order to better him at the mental art. "I saw a few people in your mind, the ones that would spur on an emotional response for you."

"I remember, yes," Harry agreed, knowing exactly who she was referencing by those people.

"I take it that redhead and that bushy haired girl were your friends from the future?" Bellatrix questioned curiously, not believing it to be a leap of intelligence to decipher that they were his friends from the future. "Was the redhead a Weasley?" She asked, knowing there wasn't a redheaded witch or wizard in all of Britain that wasn't connected to the Weasley family somehow.

"Yes," Harry nodded with a smile, remembering his friends fondly. "He was Ron and she Hermione. I miss them dearly."

"I knew it!" Bellatrix exclaimed, giving a loud laugh, appreciating her wit.

Harry looked down at his pocket watch, and saw that it was almost time to get to Dumbledore's office, the time having passed much quicker than he planned. He had thought they would have a good amount of time to talk, but now he realized that it was not to be. "You remember when Moonshine asked us last year what our animagus form would be if we could choose? And you said that you would want to be a spider?" He asked, looking back up to Bellatrix from his pocket watch.

"Vaguely," Bellatrix replied, though she remembered that class session clearly as it was the first time she had met Harry.

"Ron was deathly afraid of spiders," Harry sighed with a forlorn look in his eyes. "Your answer made me miss him so much. I had only been in the past for about a week, maybe a week and a half before then. I was pretty lonely." Bellatrix bit her lip in silence, not really knowing what to say to him in response. "We should get going," Harry whispered, getting to his feet, saving Bellatrix from her awkwardness.

Bellatrix agreed, jumped up from the couch, collected her things and walked over to the door. "You know, I'm surprised you trusted me with your secret," started Bellatrix as they exited into the seventh floor hallway. "I mean, it's not like we know each other that much. I haven't been very open about myself."

"I know you plenty well," Harry said, almost affronted by her assertion. "I know how your voice comes out as if you are bored, but when you're joking around and actually having some fun you inflect emotion into it. I know your sense of humor usually is sarcastic with a touch of arrogance, but you sometimes deadpan. I know that you have the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen and can never pass up a piece of pumpkin cake, and that you prefer your butterbeer warm, even when it's hot outside. Should I go on?"

"Watching me in the Great Hall, are you?" Bellatrix questioned, seeing how those things that he mentioned were qualities a person could learn from observation.

"Like I was the only one?" Harry questioned back, keeping his eyes on her as she headed towards the hallway that led to the staircases, the opposite way he was going.

"Oh, and Dumbledore?" Bellatrix called over her shoulder, looking back at the wizard. "I know your best friend is probably your owl, though I don't know its name—and if not the owl, then Edgar Bones. I know that you hate shepherd's pie. I know you're a bleeding heart, willing to help and befriend anyone that is in need. I know your favorite bean from Bertie Bott's is white chocolate. Should I go on?"

Harry stared at her, a neutral expression on his face as he weighed everything that she had said. "Black?"

"Yes?" She replied with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say.

"Her name is Hedwig." Harry smiled, earning a grin and a nod from the witch before she left. Harry couldn't hide the smile from his face as he continued on towards Dumledore's office, knowing that he had a lot to talk about with the headmaster. The stairway was already down when Harry arrived, so he quickly walked up the stairs and entered the office. "Hello sir," He said, giving a small knock on the door to earn the attention of the office's occupant.

"Hello Harry," Dumbledore said cheerfully, pushing his work aside to focus on the younger wizard. "I'm glad to see you."

"Same to you, sir," Harry replied while taking his usual seat in front of the large oak desk. The pair made some small talk for a bit, asking each other about their previous week, with Harry informing Dumbledore about the difficulties of his N.E.W.T.s. "I researched everything that you told me to look at, the Peverells, the Deathly Hallows, especially horcruxes." He said, once the pair had gone silent for a moment.

"So you finally understand what a horcrux does," Dumbledore murmured, not as a question but more of a statement. "And what a horcrux actually is."

"It keeps you alive even if your mortal form dies," Harry affirmed, knowing it was the most evil way to use magic that one could fathom. "The horcrux isn't the piece of soul, but rather the object itself. And from your notes, it seems to me that you believed Voldemort was, or is more like, rather blasé about his horcruxes."

"That sounds like Tom," Dumbledore acknowledged, seeing the telltale qualities of Tom Riddle in what Harry had said—the arrogance, the inability to respect what he deems useless, both traits that Voldemort had. "Always willing to overlook what other people might know, just because he thinks no one is as clever as he is. Plus, with the sheer amount of times he has divided his soul…"

"Has there been…has there been anyone that has ever done what he has done?" Harry interrupted tentatively, hoping against hope that no one before Voldemort had been as evil as to create as many horcruxes as Voldemort had.

"Maim their soul to such an extent?" Dumbledore asked, earning a nod from Harry. "I don't believe there has been. Splitting a soul once is dangerous, but splitting a soul five times? It certainly explains why he has lost the patience and intelligence he possessed as a student in Hogwarts, and why he has devolved into a near monstrous appearance. And to think, he has intentions of creating one more horcrux."

Harry looked up at what Dumbledore had said with a look of knowing horror on his face, images of Voldemort's snake-like face popping into his mind; his scarlet eyes, his slits for nose, his bone colored skin, all of which converged to create the gruesome appearance of an almost bipedal snake. "So he does look like a snake now then?"

"Snake?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, assuming that was the form he took in Harry's time. "He has blurred features, as if he has been burned beyond recognition. And his eyes are now deep red, with no white of which to speak."

"Does he have a nose?" Harry asked rhetorically, wondering just how scarred and ugly this Voldemort was in comparison to the one he knew.

"Last I knew," Dumbledore shrugged, having not seen Voldemort's face in a while. Whenever they confronted one another, which was sporadic and not very often, Voldemort always appeared with his hood up, preventing Dumbledore for seeing his face in full. "What about the Peverells?"

"Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus," Harry answered knowingly, recalling the triplets he had learned about during the previous week. "They were born in the year 1212 in the village of Godric's Hollow."

"Very good," Dumbledore nodded in approval, impressed with Harry's researching ability. "Ignotus' headstone in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow actually says his date of birth was July 12, 1214, but from what I know, he and his brothers were actually born on July 14, 1212. The headstone says he also died a year younger than history says, so perhaps it was a joke or just a really, really bad stone carver."

Harry chuckled at Dumbledore's comment, inwardly wondering himself whether it was bad craftsmanship or if the history books just had it wrong. "They were triplets?"

"Maybe," Dumbledore frowned, knowing that information from that many years ago was oftentimes unreliable. "A few genealogy books say so, but you never know. They each could have been born a year apart from each other for all we know." Dumbledore looked off out the window into the distance, before he looked down at the wand on his desk, staring at it pensively. "And the Deathly Hallows?"

"I haven't learned anything about them." Harry answered, shaking his head in the negative, having still not found what he needed about the Deathly Hallows, like how they were made, what inspired their creation, or whether they were indeed crafted by Death himself.

"Okay," Dumbledore nodded, furrowing his brow in thought. Unbeknownst to many in the wizarding community, Dumbledore was aware that the history of the Deathly Hallows was so intertwined with the lives of the Peverell brothers that talking about one was impossible without knowing about the other. "Then how about we pause this conversation about the Peverells until you do?"

"Very well," Harry replied, rising to his feet, knowing that was his cue to leave. Over the time he spent with the headmaster, he realized that Dumbledore had a way to kick people out of his office without actually telling them to leave, making it quite exasperating when you went to him for answers that he refused to give. "Goodbye sir."

"Bye Harry," Dumbledore said, watching as the younger wizard left.

When summer finally turned to autumn, Harry and a small group of Ravenclaws joined Greta in Hogsmeade to celebrate her birthday. Harry had sent her a box of candies, a small present, but one that showed that he had thought about her. After a lengthy lunch in the Three Broomsticks, they dispersed, with Greta walking off with her boyfriend, Milton Curd, to what appeared to be Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Harry couldn't help but grimace at the idea of the shop, with its tacky and frilly decorations and it's all-too-sweet atmosphere—he was supremely glad that Bellatrix didn't force him there and instead wanted to keep what they had a secret.

After that, the cold of the fall started to come, preventing the students from leaving the castle very often. However, there were a few nice days interspersed throughout the weeks, which oftentimes allowed the students to sit out in the various quads and courtyards found throughout Hogwarts to enjoy the sunlight. It was a warm October Saturday that found Harry sitting with Bertram, Xenophilius, and Greta, staring up at the Ravenclaw quidditch team as they flew high above the quidditch pitch as they played their first match of the season against the Slytherin team. They all cheered and yelled, hoping that the Ravenclaws would pull out a victory against the green and silver team.

Harry kept his eyes on Derrick as he was assaulted by the Slytherin chasers, all of whom seemed to be testing his skills every few minutes. One of the chasers for the Slytherin team had managed to score the only goal in the game so far, allowing the Slytherins to take the early 10-0 lead. The score went back and forth for the next few minutes, with each team's chasers scoring on the opposing keepers. Derrick was playing well, but the Ravenclaw team was a bit overmatched by the bigger, stronger, faster and intensely more physical Slytherins.

In the end, the match was over pretty quickly, with Regulus Black, the Slytherin seeker, catching the snitch not twenty minutes into the game. The final score was 190-30, which erupted a round of applause from the Slytherins and a few jeers from the Ravenclaws, who were upset at the physical style of play that the Slytherins employed. Overall, however, Harry knew that the Slytherins were just flat out better than the Ravenclaws and, if given the opportunity to play, would probably have even beaten his own Gryffindor team. The Slytherins in this time each earned a spot on the team due to their skill, unlike what happened with Draco Malfoy, who had his father buy him a spot on the team via Nimbus 2001s. As the Ravenclaws filed out of the stadium, they gave one last look to their team before the seven players disappeared into their changing room, all with disappointed looks on their faces.

Later that night, Harry and Xenophilius snuck out of the common room and went down to the kitchens, both craving a late night snack. It was well past the time they were supposed to be in the common room that found them making their way back up to the Ravenclaw tower, each hurrying through the hall in muted silence, hoping not to get caught out of bed. "Dumbledore!" A voice cut through the darkness, making Harry and Xenophilius stop right where they were.

Harry immediately recognized the voice, and knowing that he had his invisibility cloak to protect him, he gestured for Xenophilius to go. "Go, there's no point in both of us getting in trouble."

"You sure?" Xenophilius whispered, before earning a nod from Harry. He jetted off into the darkness of the hallway, heading up to the Ravenclaw common room, leaving Harry behind as per the boy's request.

"Hello Black," Harry grinned as Bellatrix showed herself and walked towards him, meeting her violet gaze with his own blue and green one.

"Shouldn't you be in your room?" Bellatrix questioned with an amused expression on her pretty face, not surprised to find him out since she knew it was a common occurrence for him. "You're lucky it was me and not McGonagall who found you."

"She's on duty tonight?" Harry asked in a worried tone, biting his lip, knowing full well that he would receive a terrible detention from the Transfiguration professor should she catch him out of bad after hours. Then, adding with a wry grin, he said, "I think I'd prefer her, actually."

"Very funny," Bellatrix said, sticking her tongue out at him. "Yeah, she's on duty. There are like five teachers awake, though." Her eyes flicked down to his bag, trying to see if he had his invisibility cloak. "You have your cloak? Use it."

"Okay," Harry smiled, as she nodded and turned to walk down the hall to resume her duties. He grabbed her wrist before she took a step and pulled her body towards him, kissing her on the cheek when she was close enough for him to reach. He then cupped the opposite side of her head—his left thumb nestled over her right ear—and turned her face towards him, where he kissed her once more on the lips. "Good night." He said, pulling away from the kiss and walking away, a content expression on his face all the while.

With a hop to his step, Harry hurried towards the Ravenclaw common room, knowing that if he was caught, he'd certainly get detention. Smoothly, he rounded corner after corner, before rushing down the hallway that led to the main stairwell. "Hey, what does that say on the map?" Harry heard a voice say echoing off of the walls, and he immediately recognized it as Sirius': it was younger, yes, but it still had the same mischievous tone that he knew the Sirius of his time had. "Two Potters? Who is Harry Potter?"

"What map are they talking about?" Harry whispered to himself, before his eyes went wide with fear. "They're talking about the Marauder's Map! They must have just started it. That means…they see me as Harry Potter on it." He quickly ran down the hall and threw on his invisibility cloak, searching for a place to hide. His eyes shifted about, desperately trying to figure out what to do; however, short on time, he heard their footsteps coming closer and he was forced to duck behind a suit of armor, hoping that would suffice.

"It says he should be around here," James Potter said, raising his wand in the hallway, where it was alit with an eerie white glow, searching for the person that was represented by the dot on the map. "I don't see anyone, do you?"

"No," Remus replied, looking from the map to the spot where Harry was crouched, though he could not make anyone out. To him, there seemed to be nothing there except for the suit of armor; a lifeless suit of armor that had been there since Remus had first entered the school. "There's no one there."

"He should be right there." James said again, staring at the spot Harry should be, just behind the armor.

"Maybe he has an invisibility cloak like you, James!" Peter exclaimed, feeling the air where he thought Harry was, flaring his hands wildly as if he was trying to capture a lightning bug. As Peter swung his hands around, Harry wiggled and ducked, making sure to avoid the boy's reach as much as possible.

"Stop, you prat. Are you a wizard or are you a muggle?" Sirius questioned mockingly, looking at Peter like he had three heads. "Accio, cloak! Accio!" When nothing came to him, he shrugged his shoulders and looked over at James, wondering what the other boy thought. "I guess the map is wrong, I'll have to fix it."

"I guess," James whispered, though he seemed skeptical. He knew Sirius had created the map so it would never lie, so it would show everybody in Hogwarts at the time, which was why he doubted it could be tricked as quickly and easily as it seemed to be. "I don't know of any other spells that would make someone that invisible, do you? A bedazzling hex would leave an outline, and even a disillusionment charm would not be powerful enough to make someone so invisible like that."

"Nope," Sirius shrugged once more, pocketing his wand and putting his hands behind his head. "Lets go, I'm hungry. I'll figure out what's wrong with it in the morning."

"Yeah, let's go down to the kitchens," James agreed with a nod, turning around and following Sirius down the hall and to the stairwell. He gave the suit of armor one last look before vanishing behind the corner, allowing Harry to let out a deep breath in an effort to relieve his tension.

Harry waited a few minutes after they disappeared until he revealed himself and crept out of his hiding place. As he ripped the cloak off of his body, his eyes were wide in confusion as they stared down at the fabric, wondering just what it was that prevented the summoning charm from working. "It should have." He whispered, knowing that he wanted to figure out how it was possible. But first, he knew, he couldn't let himself be seen as Harry Potter on the Marauder's Map again, so to that end he rushed back to his room, hoping that the Remus journal would have answers for him.

He arrived in his room, and gave out a sigh of relief when he saw everyone else was either asleep or had their curtains drawn for privacy. "Did you get in trouble?" Xenophilius said, peeking his head out of his curtains to see his friend.

"No," Harry shook his head, feigning worry, not wanting Xenophilius to know that Bellatrix had no intention of getting him in trouble in the first place. "She let me off the hook."

"Thanks for what you did," Xenophilius smiled, happy to have a friend like Harry, one who was as good and loyal as Harry was. He hadn't very many friends as it was, with his other roommates only tolerating him, but even the Ravenclaws viewing him as strange. It wasn't until Harry came and befriended him did he feel more welcome, especially around his other close friend, Edgar Bones. "You're a good friend."

"Don't worry about it," Harry replied happily, he himself caring a great deal about Xenophilius. With a nod goodnight, Xenophilius closed his curtains back up, giving Harry the privacy he needed in order to enter his trunk.

Popping open the library lid, Harry jumped down into the chamber, landing on the floor with a thud. Quickly, he headed over to the table in the center of the room, which had a leather journal in the center of it. _"Remus, I need to know how I can change my name on the Marauder's Map. I can't believe I forgot about that. I was almost caught tonight."_ He wrote swiftly, hoping for a speedy response.

"_The Marauder's Map? Oh, Merlin, let me think. The map never lies, Harry, this will be difficult."_ Black ink appeared on the paper, before disappearing with a flash. Nearly a minute later, black ink appeared once more, individual letters at first before forming into a sentence. _"I think you might have to befuddle the map, sort of like how Barty Crouch, Jr., befuddled the Triwizard Cup. Befuddle it to show your name as it is now, because you will be shown no matter what."_

"_The Confundus Charm?"_ Harry replied in loopy cursive, wanting to make sure that was what Remus meant by befuddling the map.

"_That should work. I don't believe the Befuddlement Jinx will prove powerful enough."_ Remus replied, and as the ink disappeared, a brand new sentence formed on the paper. _"Remember, do not hold anything back, the charm will need to be especially powerful in order to confuse the map, and even then I don't think it'll work. It's worth a try, though."_

"_Luckily, I have my map to test it out on."_ Harry noted, recognizing that he could practice on his own map before trying it on the original. _"Where can I get their map?"_

"_It's their sixth year, correct?"_ The ink replied, telling Harry what he needed to know. _"Sirius kept it in his bedside table most of the time."_

Harry nodded his head, having previously assumed that he would have to break into the Gryffindor common room, and closed the journal and went back up into his room, pulling his version of the Marauder's Map out as he closed the curtains around his bed for privacy. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He whispered quietly, activating the true magic of the map, one that showed nearly every part of the castle and all of the occupants inside.

Dots with names started to appear on the map, inside the lines that showed the entire castle of Hogwarts. Sure enough, he saw his name appear as Harry Potter, which made him draw a breath for a second. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten about the map, an object that he had used many times over the last four years. He took out his wand and pointed the tip down at the yellowed parchment, hoping that he could manage the charm that was needed to confuse the map into showing him as a different name. He silently thought of the effect that he desired, and then waved his wand over the map and put all of his energy into the spell, muttering, "Confundo." He saw the map's writing flash for a second and he quickly pointed his wand at it once more, saying, "Harry Dumbledore." Again, the writing flashed, and he looked down at his dot: Harry Dumbledore.

He gave a sigh of relief, stifling a yawn as he realized how much energy the spell had taken out of him. "If that's what it took out of me for a measly map, how much power did Barty Crouch, Jr., have to put into his spell to confuse the Triwizard Cup?" He questioned himself, realizing that Barty probably struggled befuddling the powerful object to accept a fourth champion.

At mid-morning the next day, Harry waited outside of the Gryffindor common room underneath his cloak, listening for someone to say the password to open the portal hidden behind the portrait. He knew that the sixth year Gryffindors had a double potions with the Hufflepuffs in the morning, which he figured would give him clear access to the room shared by Sirius and his father for more than the time that was needed in order to get the map. Soon enough, a third year girl came up to the Fat Lady, making Harry inch closer to her to better hear what she was going to say. "Wartywarts," She called, which made the Fat Lady swing open and reveal the doorway into the common room.

Harry stepped forward and made to enter, but paused, not knowing if he should. When the portrait closed back up, he nodded, and said, "Wartywarts." With a lurch and a confused look on her face, the Fat Lady swung open, revealing the porthole entrance into the Gryffindor common room once more.

He snuck into the common room, passed a group of Gryffindors that did not seem to notice the portrait swing open, and ran up to the dormitories as quietly and quickly as he could. He found the sixth year room, and swiftly rushed to the bedside table that Remus had pointed out. He reached down and tried to open it, but found it jammed shut as if by magic. Taking out his wand, he whispered "Alohamora," and then tried to open it once more. Again, the drawer did not open, making Harry curse under his breath, not knowing when any occupant of the room would come back.

He kneeled there for a few more minutes, trying to think of a spell to use. Finally, a charm popped into his mind, one that he had first seen in Tom Riddle's memory during his second year, but had finally learned while he was studying for the Triwizard tournament during his fourth year, two years after first seeing the spell. "Aperio," Harry said once more, this time using a more powerful spell than the common one.

There was a flash of sudden flaming light, which filled the entire room before, sure enough, the drawer popped open with a great deal of force, revealing a trove of goodies from Zonko's, but no map. He closed that table drawer back up, and went to the next bedside tables in the room, with all eliciting the same result. He bent down and tried the last table, only to find that it too was without the map. "It's not here!" Harry growled, before closing and locking the drawer back up and rushing out of the room, intending on not being caught.

With his cloak hanging over him, preventing him from being seen, he skipped down the steps two by two until he reached the common room, and quietly tipped toed out of the room, making sure as to not be heard by the group of Gryffindors that were sitting at a table by the window. Once he was in the hallway, he jumped into an empty classroom and took off his invisibility cloak, revealing himself to the world. Throwing it into his bag, he immediately left the room and headed towards his own room in the Ravenclaw tower, intending on talking to Remus about the map not being in the bedside table.

He arrived in his room soon later, and after entering his trunk, he was at the journal. _"Where could it be, Remus?"_ Harry wrote hurriedly, not wanting to go another night with his real name on the Marauder's Map. He had no idea how many times his father and friends used it during the week, and he was worried that if they were to use it nightly, he would surely be seen eventually.

"_It is their sixth year, correct?"_ Remus wrote back nearly instantly, asking the same question he had asked Harry the night before. _"Sirius sometimes kept it in his pocket, the back one if I recall, in order to be able work on it whenever he was bored in class."_

Harry quickly climbed up the ladder and jumped out of his trunk. He closed the lid and opened up another lock, before grabbing a piece of parchment off of the top and closing the trunk back up. He pointed his wand down at the parchment, solemnly swore that he was up to no good, and swiftly ran his eyes over the map, trying to find Sirius. He searched and searched but could not find Sirius as classes had just been let out and there was a mass of students in the hallways as a result; he did, however, find his father walking from the potions classroom and into the courtyard, apparently intending on enjoying the abnormally warm day outside. Assuming that Sirius would eventually find his way to James, Harry threw the map back into the trunk and rushed off, aiming on changing their version of the Marauder's Map as soon as possible.

Harry made his way through the halls of Hogwarts, heading directly towards the courtyard he had seen his father in on the Marauder's Map, hoping that Sirius would be close by. Sure enough, he found an entire group of people in the courtyard, most surprisingly being Bellatrix, who was lazily sitting with a bunch of Slytherins underneath a tree, with Severus Snape standing and pointing his wand up to the sky. Harry's eyes drifted upwards to where Snape was pointing, and saw his father hanging from his ankles, nearly twenty feet above the ground. "Not so tough without Black here, are you, Potter?" Severus Snape smiled, staring straight at the upside-down teenager.

"You sure you want to do this, Snivellus?" James replied in a scowl, anger rising inside of him. He had tried to ignore Snape, had tried to swallow his disgust of the boy, but even with that, Snape felt the need to start something with him. As he was hanging, he reached into his pocket and grabbed a shiny object that Harry could not decipher, before staring at Snape, giving him one last chance to release him. "If you think you've seen the worst that I can do, just wait, you'll be sorry."

Bellatrix saw Harry standing and watching what was happening, and gave him a slight shrug, as if apologizing for not helping or, more likely knowing her and the deal they had with each other, telling him she didn't mind whatever it was that he decided on doing. Seeing that, and unperturbed by her not doing anything about it due to the aforementioned deal, Harry moved forward and announced his presence. "I have no quarrel with you, Snape, but if you don't put him down right now, I'm going to have take out my wand." Harry looked over Snape's shoulder, and saw the other Slytherins stirring, making him smile in amusement. "And your friends will not be able to help you, I assure you of that."

"This has nothing to do with you," Snape growled threateningly, angry that Harry dared to intrude. "Go away."

"Consider me standing in for Black then," Harry answered nonchalantly, unwilling to step aside and allow his father be hurt. "Like I said, I have no quarrel with you, and if I see him doing the same to you, I will step in on your behalf as well. I promise you that."

Just then, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew ran out into the courtyard, their wands out, seemingly having been alerted of James' predicament by someone. Harry noted that Remus looked hesitant and Pettigrew scared, while Sirius was the most bombastic with a look of what seemed to be glee on his face. "Speak of the devil," Harry said, seeing the other Slytherins jump to their feet and take out their wands as well. Standing in between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, Harry knew he had to pick a side, so he too took out his wand and stood next to Sirius, a little ahead of the younger boy in an effort to take the lead. "I'm fairly certain we're all getting detention if we get caught," Harry muttered neutrally, his eyes on Severus, hoping the boy would see reason and let up. "Four against five, I like those odds."

"Call it a draw," Bellatrix shrugged, putting her wand away and dropping her guard. She knew that many would follow her lead and let up as they feared her more than they feared Snape. "Release him, Severus, Dumbledore has a point."

"What?" Snape snapped, looking at Bellatrix with wide, confused eyes. He had Potter right where he wanted him—defenseless and embarrassed—and to turn back now was not an option in his mind.

"I don't feel like getting detention, I'm Head Girl," Bellatrix ordered a tad angrily, staring at Snape, daring him to go against her. "Put him down and do this another day, when his friends aren't around."

Snape looked back and forth between Bellatrix, Harry, and James, before, with a loud growl, he allowed James to unceremoniously fall to the ground in a heap. "Lucky you, Potter." He said with his lip curled upwards, turning and walking out of the courtyard, many of the Slytherins following closely behind him.

"Dumbledore won't be here to save you next time," Bellatrix said with a smirk, keeping up the pretense, which earned a smile from Harry. She too turned and walked away, grabbing her bag on the way out of the courtyard.

James got back to his feet and pocketed a small mirror that he had been holding in his hands, the shiny object that Harry had seen him pull out of his pocket. "I guess I owe you another quidditch game," James laughed, wiping off the dirt from his robes, wanting to show his appreciation of Harry's actions.

"Don't mention it," Harry replied, walking away, knowing that he couldn't get the map at that time and would need to try again later.

He silently walked through the halls trying to distance himself from the map, knowing that, like Sirius' seemingly had before him, his dot, and by proxy his name, would get lost in the throng of Hogwarts students. He knew that he would be safe in the Ravenclaw common room, as he doubted the group had found the entrance to the room yet, which meant that it wouldn't be plotted on the map. He figured that Peter had followed various students as a rat, which allowed them to learn of the various locations of the house common rooms, like the Ravenclaw tower and the Slytherin dungeons—Harry himself did not know where the Hufflepuff common room was and had never looked for it on the Marauder's Map. As such, he rushed swiftly towards his room, wanting to be protected until he could find another time to steal the map. As he neared a hallway, he quickly zigged down it, knowing that there was a secret entrance behind the portrait of a bookshelf, having found it when he adventured around Hogwarts during the previous summer. He touched the book that would open the portal, and looked down each end of the hall, before jumping through—the bookshelf returning to its place soon after.

He appeared on the landing of the fifth level in the Ravenclaw boys' dormitory. He ran down the stairs until he reached his own floor, and then entered his room, giving out a sigh of relief. He jumped into his bed and closed the curtains around him, giving him the needed privacy in order to check out the map. He looked down and saw the group of four dots walking to the Gryffindor common room. He knew that his best opportunity would to do it early the next morning, though he knew he risked Sirius keeping it in his room as he had done that day. However, if that was the case, he'd slip back into the Gryffindor common room just as he had previously and grab the map from the bedside table.

The next morning, Harry once again waited near the Fat Lady portrait, making sure to stay hidden. Suddenly, the portrait swung opened, and a few Gryffindors came out, though not Sirius, the person for whom he was waiting. A few minutes passed before the portrait opened once more, and a flock of Gryffindors barreled out of the common room in a rush, but again, no Sirius. Finally, after twenty more minutes, and a few more Gryffindors, a small group of sixth years exited, including Sirius.

Harry tailed Sirius for a few halls, until he saw his chance to act. _Diffindo_, he thought to himself silently, slashing his wand in Sirius' direction. As he expected would happen, the back pocket of Sirius' black slacks tore itself open, allowing the folded up piece of parchment to fall unnoticeably to the ground. "Accio, map!" He said quietly, catching the map as it flew into his hands, trying to hurry before Sirius knew what had happened. Thinking about the effect that he wanted, he whispered, "Confundo," and ran his wand over the parchment. "Harry Dumbledore," He whispered again as he pointed the tip of his wand down onto the parchment, hoping that it would work. He quickly looked up and saw that Sirius had reached back to feel his pocket, presumably having felt the weight of the parchment fall out. Quickly, he said the password and looked at his dot on the map, and gave out a sigh of relief when he saw that it read Harry Dumbledore. "Hey, Sirius!" He called out loudly, pocketing his wand after clearing the map.

Sirius turned around and when he saw that it was Harry, he gave a wave and a smile. "Dumbledore, how are things?" He questioned, wanting to know how Harry had been doing.

"I saw you dropped this old piece of parchment," Harry said, running over to Sirius with the map in his hand. "I guess it must have fallen out of your pocket."

"My pocket ripped, it seems." Sirius muttered, shrugging his shoulders as he accepted the map from Harry. "Thanks, I would have hated to lose this."

"Isn't it just an old piece of parchment?" Harry lied, trying to sell to Sirius the fact that he didn't know how important the map was.

"What, oh, yeah, I thought this was something else." Sirius laughed, hoping that he didn't ruin the cover of the map. "I should get going, thanks again, Harry."

"No problem." Harry nodded, turning around as a large grin appeared on his face. With a sigh of relief, Harry walked down to the kitchens, feeling a bit peckish and knowing that he had missed breakfast. He had class in a few minutes, but he knew he had just enough time to grab a muffin and maybe a glass of juice.

Later that night, Harry met Bellatrix on her rounds, before they both entered the Room of Requirement. Once they were in the privacy of the room, Harry plopped down onto one of the couches, took off his black robe and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, loosening up his collar. He reached into his bag and grabbed his Transfiguration book, intending on getting some work done while they hung out. However, as he started to read, he noticed he could not concentrate, his mind drifting off to various other thoughts that were unrelated to transfiguration.

"Something on your mind?" Bellatrix asked quietly, seeing Harry's furrowed brows as he tried to read.

"Lots," Harry nodded with a sigh, looking up to meet her gaze.

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow, wondering what had his attention. "Like what?"

"Thank you for helping with the Slytherins the other day, by the way," Harry said, happy that she had showed her affection for him by helping both him and his father.

"I didn't feel like getting detention," Bellatrix shrugged it off, not wanting him to read too much into it.

"Either way, thank you," Harry smiled, not really caring why she did it, only that she did indeed do it.

He wasn't angry that she didn't help his father in that situation, instead allowing Snape to do whatever he wanted with James—the pair had come to the agreement that, while Bellatrix would not take part in it, Snape and James would have their little spat since they both deserved whatever it was the other gave. While Harry was initially tentative on it, he had witnessed a duel break out between Snape and his father the day after they came to the agreement, and saw firsthand that both boys got in shots at the other and it wasn't as one-sided as Harry had been led to believe via Snape's memories. What he did not tolerate, she knew, was her actively bullying with the other Slytherins, an action that she did not take part in just for that reason. While they had a lot to change, and Harry knew that Bellatrix wasn't completely devoid of her former ways and that she had yet to truly make the choice to be with him and drop her darker characteristics, for the time being it worked and he was happy—she would have to make that choice sooner or later, decide on the life she was going to live eventually, but the time was not then.

"So, what else is on your mind?" Bellatrix prodded, not letting him off the hook so quickly. She knew that giving her his thanks could not be the only thing on his mind and something else was gnawing at his thoughts.

"Who is Lycoris Black?" He asked distractedly, as he began to read his Transfiguration homework, hoping that talking about his thoughts would allow him to concentrate a bit more.

"He or she? I or a Y?" Bellatrix questioned back, straightening some parchment and uncorking a bottle of ink, readying herself to write an essay.

"What?" Harry questioned confusedly, not understanding the question. "I have no idea; she died a few years ago."

"Lycoris," Bellatrix nodded in the affirmative, realizing that was who Harry meant. "I met her a few times, but I barely remember her. She was a private person, even most Blacks didn't understand why. She was like my…first cousin twice removed or something, I don't know, she was my grandfather's cousin. She died when I was five or six, I can't really remember."

"Why do you think she was so private?" Harry inquired interestedly, intrigued by the proposition of another Black treating people well as Bustle seemed to imply that she did. If that was the case, then surely there was some hope with Bellatrix, as she would then have two cousins and, maybe if Alphard Black giving Sirius money showed anything, an uncle as well, who were good.

"Blood purity," Bellatrix shrugged, not really knowing, barely remembering her as it was, let alone great detail about her personal life. "She probably didn't hate muggles or muggleborns, but wanted to still be part of the family."

"Gotcha," Harry nodded in understanding, seeing how it would be smart to distance herself and not allow members of the family to see her true feelings if that was the case. It was difficult for anyone to sever their ties with the family, so picking and choosing when to see them seemed reasonable to Harry if Lycoris truly was a nice person, but cared about her family too much to disavow them entirely. "And what about the I or Y question?"

"Licoris Black was an ancestor of mine from like the 1700s." Bellatrix answered, her mind drifting off to the family tree that was hanging in Grimmauld Place. "Lycoris was named after him. He married some witch named Magenta Tripe or something like that, and two hundred years later, I am able to tell you about him."

"Interesting," Harry whispered, seeing how Lycoris and Licoris sounded the same when spoken out loud.

"Why do you ask, anyway?" Bellatrix inquired, not really understanding how he had heard about the name Lycoris.

"I met a house elf," Harry began slowly, furrowing his brows as he thought back to his first conversation with Bustle, the elf that cleaned his room in the Ravenclaw tower. "His name is Bustle, and he said that his former master was Lycoris Black, before she freed him and he came to work at Hogwarts."

"A house elf now?" Bellatrix sighed, rolling her eyes in a mixture of amusement and astonishment. She had grown up in a family that looked down on the helping creatures, beheading them when they were too old to do their job and hanging their head on the wall afterwards, as if a trophy of a hunted beast. "Is there nothing that you won't become friends with?"

"Voldemort," Harry answered quickly, then adding with a smile, "And dementors."

"Duly noted," Bellatrix mumbled in exasperation at Harry's joke, ignoring the fact that he spoke the Dark Lord's name. "What else?"

"Hm, you wouldn't happen to know who the Peverells are, do you?" Harry asked, not believing she would since he himself had no idea about them prior to talking to Dumbledore.

"I recognize the name, but other than that, no," Bellatrix said, dipping her quill into the bottle of ink and starting her essay. "I saw it in a book in the library a year or two ago, why?"

Harry smiled at his luck, thrilled that Bellatrix would be able to help him in his endeavor to learn more about the brothers and their Deathly Hallows. "Can you get me that book?"

"Sure," Bellatrix nodded, willing to help him out, whatever he needed. "Anything else? Would you like me to do your homework for you, as well?" Bellatrix questioned, rolling her eyes once more, this time in feigned annoyance. "Or take your Transfiguration exam?" Harry gave out a laugh at her antics, making Bellatrix throw a pillow at him, which hit him square in the face.

The weeks passed with Harry meeting with Dumbledore every Wednesday, Bellatrix every few days in the Room of Requirement, and the dueling club every Saturday. Halloween came quickly, and after the big feast, Harry and Bellatrix met up outside on the seventh floor at midnight. Instead of entering the Room of Requirement, however, Harry and Bellatrix walked briskly towards the stairs, whispering to each other to pass the time. Harry took her hand and led her through the halls of Hogwarts, making sure not to be seen by anyone. After a few twisting corners, and a couple flights of stairs, they arrived in an empty storage room that held a lone, majestic object in the center of it.

"Is this what you wanted me to see?" Bellatrix questioned, staring puzzlingly at the large mirror that was about twenty feet ahead of her. "What is this thing?"

"It's the Mirror of Erised," Harry explained with a swooping gesture towards the mirror, walking further into the room until he was just five feet away from it. He was off to the side, unable to see his reflection, but close enough to read the writing at the top of the mirror. "Come, stand in front of it," Harry suggested, wanting to know what she saw, wanting to see what she desired. "What do you see?"

Bellatrix took the necessary steps forward, closing the distance between herself and the mirror. She stood next to Harry directly in front of the mirror, staring straight at her reflection—with her long straight black hair, her violet eyes, and her pointed features, she looked exactly as she would in a normal mirror. "Nothing," Bellatrix said, raising a confused eyebrow at what she was supposed to see.

"Hm?" Harry asked, surprised, a bit taken aback by her answer. He recalled how Ron had muttered instantly about all of the accolades that the mirror accomplished for him, like quidditch captain and Head Boy, all things that made him better than his brothers in his opinion.

Bellatrix's eyes flicked over to Harry, hoping he would inform her about why they were there. "I just see myself and your reflection."

Harry blinked at what she had said, completely drawing a blank as to explain what she was seeing. "Nothing else?"

"Nothing else," Bellatrix agreed with a nod, still confused as to what she was supposed to be seeing, as to what made the mirror special and different than other ones. Was it like the mirror that Harry had charmed to show his true appearance or something entirely different? "Why, what am I supposed to see?"

"Your heart's desire," Harry answered quietly, knowing through experience that the mirror showed what a person really wanted in the world. Harry took a step to the left to be directly in front of it, and looked at his reflection, wondering if anything had changed from the previous opportunity he had to see his desire. Like last time, it was him, older and more powerful than ever with Voldemort gone from the world, having been defeated in battle. However, unlike last time, there was also tall female standing next to him, her features hard to distinguish, but their fingers interlocked in clearly defined love. His eyes instinctively moved over to Bellatrix, who confusedly looked back at him, not really knowing what he was seeing. "I see Voldemort gone from this world, that's my heart's desire."

"Hm," Bellatrix bit her lip, repeating what Harry had said just moments before. She continued to look at the mirror, still seeing her and Harry standing in front of it instead of the desires that it was supposed to show.

"If you read the scrawl across the top, it says 'I show not your face but your heart's desire' backwards." Harry pointed to the top of the mirror, where tiny letters were engraved in the metal.

"So it does," Bellatrix whispered, taking a step closer to read the writing. _Why don't I see anything?_ She questioned to herself, confused by why it didn't work for her.

"Maybe you're just the happiest person in the world, so you just see yourself," Harry suggested, remembering when Dumbledore told him that the mirror would not work for people who didn't want anything.

"I guess," Bellatrix replied, inwardly wondering why she didn't feel exceptionally happy if that was the case. Next to her, she saw Harry's questioning glance, so she turned to him and gave him a smile, not wanting the mood to go south. "I could go for some more pumpkin cake…" She said, grabbing his hand and rushing out of the room, heading to the kitchens below.

Promptly at eight o'clock the next Wednesday, Harry arrived in Dumbledore's office, and after the exchange of pleasantries, both sat across from one another, silently sipping on the drinks that Dumbledore had poured moments prior. Harry had yet to find out more detailed information about the Deathly Hallows, so the topic of conversation usually lingered on everyday things, rather than the notes that Harry had received from the Dumbledore in his own time. Harry had pushed off his research of the Deathly Hallows for the time being until the Christmas break, where he knew he would have more than enough time to search out whatever he needed and he wouldn't be burdened by his difficult N.E.W.T assignments.

"What should we talk about tonight, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned as he placed his glass back down on his desk, giving the younger wizard a large smile.

"Can you teach me some magic?" Harry asked excitedly, hoping to learn something from the great wizard. "When you first invited me to come to your office, you said that you would."

"Like what?" Dumbledore inquired, wondering what the boy wanted to learn from him.

"Well," Harry thought to himself, as a plethora of options ran through his mind. He knew that Dumbledore was, without a doubt, the greatest wizard in Europe, if not the entire world, so he understood the honor it would present to be taught by Dumbledore personally. "One time, I saw you use a great spell. It wasn't a spell you would use normally, it was during a confrontation."

"Go on," Dumbledore prodded, needing more information in order to guess what spell it was that Harry was speaking about.

"There was a flash of silver, and some dust, and everyone you were fighting was knocked out." Harry replied, recalling the spell that Dumbledore had used when Fudge and Umbridge confronted the great wizard during Harry's fifth year. "But it wasn't a stunner, no, because you said that they wouldn't know they were knocked out, they would assume that they just fell to the floor and would wake up naturally after only a few moments."

"With what little information you've given me, I think you're referencing the Benumbing Hex," Dumbledore answered after a short time, believing that to be the spell Harry wanted to learn. If not, he knew, it was still a useful spell, one that Harry could use regardless. "Yes, I can teach you that."

"Awesome," Harry grinned, putting his glass on the table and straightened up in his seat, ready to start right away.

"It's an old spell, and it does exactly what you think it does: it drops people into unconsciousness for a few simple seconds." Dumbledore explained, informing the younger wizard as to the spell's strength. "What it lacks in pure punch like the Stunning Charm, it makes up for in versatility. It allows for an easy escape from a situation not in your best favor, and is especially useful when you are outnumbered a great deal."

"What's the catch?" Harry questioned, seeing the power that the spell had. If there wasn't a catch, he presumed that the spell would be more widely known, since he had learned that most magic that lasted through the ages were the ones that people found most useful and lacked adverse effects.

"Ah, how astute of you," Dumbledore nodded in appreciation of Harry's wit. "The people have to be in the immediate proximity and path of your wand, so you can't use this spell to fight off a wizard twenty feet behind you. They need to be close and visible; I tend to find that anyone past the ten feet mark is too far. Additionally, it is easily blocked—it's a powerful spell given the right circumstances, but a stunner is more useful in many ways."

"How do I do it?" Harry asked excitedly, wanting to have such a spell in his arsenal.

"I trust you not to use this lightly," Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, earning a vigorous nod from Harry. "The incantation is 'Beniman' and the wand movement is a strong thrust towards the ground, as if using a hammer."

"Can I try it?" Harry inquired as he grabbed his wand from his robes and readied himself to experiment with the spell.

"Not here," Dumbledore shook his head with a jovial laugh. "I'd rather not have to fix my office afterwards." Dumbledore smiled, knowing that it would probably upturn his desk and knock over his trinkets if cast. "Practice it alone a few times, try to learn how to steer the silver flashes."

"Okay," Harry nodded disappointedly, but understanding that destroying precious objects and trinkets was not the wisest of practices. He was extremely sorry for having done just that in his rage after Sirius' death, throwing a tantrum and wrecking part of Dumbledore's office just because he couldn't control his own anger, something he had been working on since that incident.

Dumbledore gazed out of the window for a brief moment, having thought he saw something, but then turned his attention back to Harry, shaking his head all the while. "What else?"

"You once sent a patronus to Hagrid, and he immediately came to where we were," Harry started, thinking back to the time he witnessed it in his fourth year. "I was wondering if you did something or if you just…?"

"I have created a way to use the patronus for communication, yes," Dumbledore informed him with a nod. "It speaks in your own voice."

Harry grinned, having known that there was something special with the patronus that Dumbledore had sent. "Can you teach me how?"

"What it comes down to is that you just think of the message you want to send while casting the patronus and the person you want it to go to and then banish it to that person," Dumbledore said, imparting the ease in which the talking patronus was created. "It's dark proof, because no matter what a person does, they cannot both mimic a person's voice and the person's patronus. Some people may have similar patronuses, but they will not be able to speak in that person's voice, even if they are under polyjuice potion, because it's mental, not physical, similarly to the way a vibe is."

"Banishment, ingenious," Harry laughed, seeing how it was easier than he thought it would be.

"Not as ingenious as vanishing," Dumbledore smiled, letting Harry in on some of the more clever ways to use simple magic. "Vanishing food or another object that you may want, and then unvanishing it whenever you need it."

"You can unvanish something?" Harry inquired, raising an eyebrow, having never heard of such a thing up until then.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore nodded in the affirmative. "I often do that with Madam Rosmerta's mead, which I am fond of and sometimes find myself wanting a drink but unable to procure it for some reason or another. Only the person who originally vanished the object can unvanish it since it exists in everything; because of that fact, it looks as if you conjured it. I suggest vanishing some food every so often as a way to bypass Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration principles, which says that food cannot be created from nothing. You never know when you may find yourself hungry and unable to find food."

"How did you learn all of this?" Harry asked, having always been curious as to why and how Dumbledore was so knowledgeable. Sure, he understood that Dumbledore had been blessed with a great mind, but to have so much time to learn as much as Dumbledore had was mind-boggling to him—he barely had time to do his homework and read Dumbledore's notes, let alone become a wizard of Dumbledore's caliber.

"I am mostly self-taught, Harry," Dumbledore recited, having gone above and beyond what he was necessary to know in order to improve his skills. "I experimented with magic when I was young; trying things out, seeing what could or could not be done. Recklessly sometimes, yes, but effective in the end."

"You're best at transfiguration?" Harry questioned interestedly, trying to learn more about the great wizard. While he had the general gist of the man's life, the information he did have lacked in detail, which was something that he hoped to change. "That's what you taught, isn't it?"

"That's what I taught here, yes," Dumbledore answered in agreement, fondly remembering his days lecturing the finer points of conjuration and the exhaustive aspects of human transfiguration. "Funnily enough, after being an alchemist, I was hired on at Hogwarts to teach the elective course of Alchemy only. However, within my first month here, Phineas Nigellus died in office, leaving the headmaster post open. Phineas didn't trust very many people on the Hogwarts staff, so he never made anyone a deputy headmaster or headmistress, leaving a precarious situation indeed. The Hogwarts Governors appointed the Care of Magical Creatures professor at the time, Newton Scamander, as the interim headmaster until the end of the year when they could decide on a more permanent solution. Following that year, Newt declined the permanent post when it was offered to him in an effort to finish his famous book, of which I am sure you are aware, and the governors hired the Transfiguration professor at the time, Armando Dippet, to the post instead. Of course, this left the Transfiguration post open, which I quickly took and was thrilled to have. There was some more maneuvering between the teachers, such as the hiring of a new Potions master, the previous one having moved to Care of Magical Creatures, but that's the gist of what happened and how I came to teach Transfiguration."

"Was that Potions teacher, the one who took the job, Professor Moonshine's father?" Harry questioned, trying to figure out the timeline. He figured it was in the early twenties, which would make sense, though without further information, he could not be sure. Dumbledore nodded silently, agreeing with his question about Moonshine. Then, after a moment of thought, Harry looked back up at Dumbledore. "What exactly does the alchemy course teach?"

"Basic principles of alchemy, charms dealing with the elements, both the basic ones and the four classical ones, more detailed transfiguration spells and other things like that," Dumbledore shrugged, believing it to be a relatively minor introduction to the art of alchemy. "It's not a very popular course. Since I've been at Hogwarts, I know of only a dozen or so students that were interested in it, let alone actually end up taking it."

"Is it even still around?" Harry inquired, inwardly wondering whether the earthen magic that Professor Moonshine had spoken of was included in the charms that dealt with the elements that Dumbledore had mentioned.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore nodded with a laugh, having kept it on the curriculum all this time due to a sense of nostalgia, rather than actual need for it. "But we haven't needed a teacher for it in a few years. Ironically, alchemy was nearly a required course when Hogwarts was first started, but the founders thought against it for some reason, which left it in the netherworld of a non-elective, non-compulsory course that is only taught if there is sufficient demand."

"Really?" Harry murmured, intrigued by the information. The world had relatively little information about the founders as far as he knew, so to learn something about them he hadn't previously known was special. "I didn't know that about the founders."

Dumbledore gazed at Harry for a brief moment, before a small smile took shape on his aged face, seeing the potential for a game in the topic of conversation. "What classes do you think the founders respectively taught? For a little background information, there were ten classes at that time, and each founder taught two classes each, with two classes being taught by Professor Hufflepuff's husband."

"Let's see," Harry pondered, thinking about the characteristics of each house and translating them into the courses. In his mind, Slytherin was obsessed with blood purity so knowing wizarding history would be important; Ravenclaw, meanwhile, the smartest of them all would be good in arithmancy, the most intellectual of courses; Hufflepuff, skilled in cooking, would probably find use in herbology; and finally Gryffindor, a skilled duelist, would be well versed in defense against the dark arts. "Slytherin taught Potions and History of Magic, Ravenclaw taught Charms and Arithmancy, Hufflepuff taught Herbology and Astronomy, and Gryffindor taught Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dumbledore stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at the boy, going over everything that he had said. "You couldn't have been any more wrong," Dumbledore finally smiled, earning a shrug and a grin from Harry. "Ravenclaw taught History of Magic and Astronomy, Hufflepuff taught Charms and Transfiguration, Gryffindor taught Potions and Herbology (which was known as Herbalism back then), and Slytherin taught Defense Against the Dark Arts and Care of Magical Creatures (which was called Beasts and was compulsory from the first year back then)."

"Slytherin taught Defense Against the Dark Arts? Seriously?" Harry asked, taken aback by that revelation.

"So legend has it," Dumbledore nodded, having been quite surprised himself when he first found out about it. "Should it come as any surprise, however? You yourself are exceptionally skilled in defense, aren't you? Why is that? The answer is simply because you are familiar with the dark arts and know about it, which better prepares you to defend yourself against it. You would never use them, yes, but you are familiar with them, just as I am, just as Professor Moonshine is, just as all the best defenders are. Familiarity with the offense, allows a better understanding of the defense, I think. And what was Slytherin known for? He was known having an understanding of the dark arts, for being a parselmouth, and for being a skilled legilimens, all of which lends to a successful defense teacher."

"I guess that makes sense," Harry replied, understanding Dumbledore's position, though still very much surprised by the revelation.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, rising to his feet and picking up a bowl of candy that was in the cabinet off to the side. He held it out for Harry to take, which Harry complied with by popping two orange pieces into his mouth. Dumbledore walked back around his desk and sat back down with the bowl still in his hands, before unwrapping a piece of yellow candy and enjoying it with a relaxed expression on his aged face. "What else would you like to learn?"

"Whatever will help me become a better duelist," Harry answered, honestly, not really worrying about anything else but that.

"Charms are powerful in every day magic, the most relevant in everyday life, but in dueling, focus on transfiguration—conjuring, animation, those are powerful realms of magic that help a great deal." Dumbledore supplied, trying to make his wisdom as easy to understand as he could. "Both allow for tremendous defenses that very few wizards will be able to get around."

"Like the statues in the atrium's fountain," Harry whispered, recalling the duel in the Ministry between Dumbledore and Voldemort that took place at the end of his fifth year.

"Beg your pardon?" Dumbledore inquired with a raised eyebrow, not understanding what Harry meant.

"You used animated statues when you were dueling Voldemort in my time to defend me and yourself from the Killing Curse." Harry informed the older wizard, still impressed with the action even two years later.

"That sounds about right," Dumbledore agreed, knowing that it sounded like a tactic he would indeed use as metal or stone statues, so long as they had the requisite thickness, would be able to stop the Killing Curse.

"Sir, speaking about duels, how exactly did you defeat Grindelwald?" Harry questioned, having heard about the duel in his Defense Against the Dark Arts class just days prior. It was a general discussion, not an in-depth conversation of every spell and defense that Dumbledore had used during the duel.

"I knew a spell he didn't," Dumbledore shrugged apathetically, though Harry did not see the look in his eyes that betrayed his seeming indifference. "He couldn't stop what I sent at him, and it cost him dearly. Sometimes, dueling is mostly about reflexes—I was a shade more skillful than he was, true, but most importantly, I was also quicker in my movements."

Eventually, the night ended, and Harry found himself in his bed, fast asleep. The days passed, and the weekend afterwards came a Hogsmeade weekend, allowing all the students of Hogwarts to leave the school and enter the small hamlet nestled in the Scottish highlands. Harry and Bellatrix had decided to go to the Hogshead early in the morning, not wanting anyone else to see them, allowing them to hide their affection for one another as best as they could, as they always whenever they forayed into the outside world. They did not chat about anything in particular as they sat at a table in the corner, drinking some tea and a butterbeer each, enjoying the company with one another. Plumes of thick smoke blotted out their appearance in the relatively empty pub, giving them a nice way to hide from view, while not looking too suspicious.

As they were conversing, the door at the front of the pub opened as a cloaked wizard entered the Hogshead, letting both a rush of wind and shafts of sunlight into the room, illuminating the darkened atmosphere. "Blood hell," Bellatrix suddenly exclaimed lowly, her eyes darting to the wizard that just walked into the pub as he traversed the room and headed straight towards a table in the corner that housed two large, hairy and brooding fellows. "He's here?"

"Who?" Harry questioned, starting to turn around to look at who it was that she was worried about.

"No, don't look," She hissed, grabbing his hand and forcing him to look forward in an attempt to keep his eyes on her. "It's Pyrites."

Harry furrowed his brows, recognizing that name, though he could not remember why. "Who is that?" He asked, hoping to shed some light on who the wizard was and why she was seemingly nervous about his appearance. She was a confident, if not brave woman, so to see her like that was surprising to Harry.

"One of the Dark Lord's most powerful servants," Bellatrix whispered, knowing of the man's might. While he was a skilled wizard, his most useful ability was his charm, as he could talk to a wide variety of people and get the information that was needed, something that allowed him to rise in the ranks of the Death Eaters quickly upon first joining years prior.

"How do you know that? That should be a pretty guarded secret, I think." Harry asked, trying to view the man from the corner of his eye. He saw that the wizard was middle-aged, and was tall and lean, with dark blond, almost brown hair that was parted to the side. He wore elegant robes in dark colors, and most unusually, he adorned his hands with white silk gloves that had a touch of red on the fingertips. Overall, Harry was of the opinion that the man known as Pyrites appeared to be a dandy wizard, one that kept up an appearance of elegance, but underneath the exterior was someone that was not as refined as he let on.

"Evan and Rodolphus like to talk," Bellatrix answered quickly, knowing for a fact that Evan Rosier's father, and her uncle, was a Death Eater, who told his son a lot of things he shouldn't have been revealing. "The Pyrites family is old and is friendly with my aunt Walburga. He's Hektor Pyrites, the head of the family, I saw him a time or two growing up."

"Hektor Pyrites?" Harry murmured to himself, finally remembering where he had heard the name Pyrites: Dumbledore had mentioned it during a conversation earlier in the year. He recalled how the older wizard had relayed to him that Hektor Pyrites had joined other early Death Eaters in wishing Tom Riddle luck in procuring the Defense Against the Dark Arts position nearly two decades prior. Harry briefly wondered whether that was the same one, cognizant of the fact that many pureblood wizards named their sons after them, and therefore, usually shared a name.

"We should get going," Bellatrix said, wanting to escape the pub as quickly as she could. She knew that if she lingered in the pub longer, she ran the risk of being recognized, which was something she was trying to avoid.

"Okay," Harry nodded, grabbing his winter cloak and rising to his feet. Truthfully, he didn't really want to spend time around a Death Eater, and much preferred to leave and get away from him.

She sat in her seat and watched as Harry put on his cloak, before asking, "You're meeting with your friends at the Leaky Cauldron, right?"

"The Three Broomsticks, you mean, yes," Harry nodded, fastening his cloak around his shoulders. "Do you want to come?"

"No," Bellatrix shook her head in the negative, knowing that she still had a few assignments to complete for the coming week. "I have some work to do at the castle."

"Very well," Harry nodded, not disappointed as he had not expected her to actually say yes. While he enjoyed his time with her, he also liked spending time with his other friends when the opportunity presented itself, and with Edgar coming to Hogsmeade, it was something he had looked forward to for a few weeks. "I'll see you tomorrow night then?"

"Certainly," Bellatrix nodded, as she got to her feet and started to put on her cloak, as well. "Bye."

"Bye," Harry smiled, turning around and heading to the door. He crossed the pub quickly, not meeting the gaze of any of the more questionable patrons, instead focusing solely on the exit that was straight in front of him.

"Hello, my dear Greybacks," He heard Pyrites say to two wizards, as Harry tried his best to not stop and listen to more of the conversation. "Varga, Fenrir, I hope you two bring good news for me."

Harry exited out of the pub before he heard their answer, but he assumed their good news was actually bad news for the rest of the world. He walked out into Hogsmeade and was met with a gust of snowy wind, making him shiver and pull his cloak closer to his body. As he walked, he saw red hair blowing in the wind in front of him, and he quickly hurried forward, recognizing who it was. "Hey Lily," He said as he came up next to his younger mother, giving her a small grin.

"Harry!" Lily smiled, flicking her emerald green gaze over to him. "How are you?"

"Not bad," Harry nodded with a shrug, having no complaints. He had grown closer to his father, closer to his mother, and closer to Bellatrix since the beginning of term; only Sirius was left to develop a relationship with, something that he was patiently waiting for to happen. "What about you? It's been a while."

"Yeah, sorry about that, N.E.W.T.s are tougher than I thought they would be," She frowned, disappointed that she had very little time for her friends. Other than Mary MacDonald, who was in many of the same classes, she very rarely saw her friends, especially the ones that weren't in the Gryffindor house.

"I figured as much," Harry agreed, knowing how tough N.E.W.T.s were, even for him, someone who was only taking five classes, which was a relatively small selection compared to most of the other students in Hogwarts. "Where are you headed?"

"Back up to school," said Lily, showing him her bag of items that she had gotten from a shop in Hogsmeade. "What about you?"

"The Three Broomsticks," Harry replied, looking over to the pub that they had just passed.

"Don't let me keep you waiting then," Lily smiled, realizing that Harry was walking with her just to talk to her and not because they were headed in the same direction. "I'll see you later, Harry."

"Bye," Harry waved, walking off towards the Three Broomsticks, leaving his mother to herself. He briefly watched as she walked, making sure she was okay, before he turned and opened up the wooden door to the pub.

Harry entered the much nicer pub of Hogsmeade, and searched for an open table, hoping he could get one that would be big enough for them. He found one in the corner and ordered a drink, waiting patiently for his friends to come, knowing that he still had a few minutes until they were supposed to arrive. The first one to arrive was Xenophilius, who was wearing what could only be described as a smock with crusted paint on it as a cloak. He walked over to Harry and took a seat, ordering a strange drink that Harry had not heard of before then as they waited for Edgar. Finally, after around twenty minutes, Edgar entered the pub with a jolly smile on his face, having not seen Harry in quite some time. While they had remained in touch via the owl post, it wasn't the same, and both knew they had a lot to catch up on.

They sat together, talking and laughing, for nearly three hours, ordering many rounds of drinks and many plates of food. About halfway through, Frank Longbottom had joined them, a welcome member to the party, who Harry had learned was quite like his son in many, many ways. Eventually, they all parted, with Edgar apparating back to his flat in southern Scotland, and the other three heading back to castle. Harry had made plans for Edgar and his new fiancée, whom Harry had yet to meet, to get together on Christmas night, though Harry did not know where that was to happen just yet. Overall, he admitted as he climbed into his bed later that night, it was a good day, one that made him very happy and content.

Before long, it was a week until the Christmas holidays, where they students were to leave Hogwarts on December 22. In that time, Harry and Bellatrix had grown even closer, oftentimes spending a couple of nights a week with one another in the library or the Room of Requirement, where they couldn't be seen by any of the other Slytherins. It wasn't that they were worried about repercussions or anything like that; it was just that they both agreed it wasn't worth the fight that they knew would come when others learned about their relationship. Bellatrix knew that her parents would learn about it, and cause something that she wasn't ready to face yet, so at her request, Harry also allowed it to stay a secret. There would be a time to reveal their feelings for one another, but it wasn't then, and as such, secrecy was necessary, though inwardly Harry also realized that Bellatrix had other reasons for not wanting to reveal their feelings yet, as well. He dared not confront her on those reasons, however, as he knew it would upset her, so he waited until he knew she was ready to face them or she came to him with them.

The last Wednesday before break found Harry in his usual seat in Dumbledore's office, a strange aura around him. He had read the Daily Prophet earlier in the day, and had seen the various articles being written about the war, which held relatively little information, but painted a picture of horrors that Harry hoped would never happen. He wasn't used to being ignorant about Voldemort, and ever since he learned occlumency and blocked the connection into the Dark Lord's mind, he was as uninformed as nearly everyone else in the country when it came to the Dark Lord's deeds and ultimate plans. It was an unusual feeling for him, having been at the center of nearly every plan that Voldemort had before traveling back in time.

"Professor, I was wondering, what exactly is going on out there? I mean in the war, that is." Harry questioned slowly, choosing his words carefully. "What is Voldemort doing? What is he after right this instant?'

"A lot," Dumbledore replied somberly. "People are more fearful than I've ever seen before, and rightfully so. I'm trying to help the Ministry out as best as I can, along with a select few of my personal friends, but whatever information we can glean from the few informants that we have is often shoddy at best."

"Yeah," Harry whispered, realizing that the movement against the Death Eaters was a grass roots movement, rather than a massive fight against the Dark Lord as he had envisioned it.

"People are afraid of their loved ones dying, they're afraid of being kidnapped, but most and worst of all, they're afraid of each other—they don't know who is and who isn't a Death Eater." Dumbledore sighed, knowing that fear was the most damaging power and the most dangerous ability that Lord Voldemort had in his arsenal. "To them, the friend that they have had since their time at Hogwarts could be a Death Eater, no one really knows."

The pair went on, with Dumbledore answering whatever questions Harry had about Voldemort's actions. Harry noticed that the older wizard did not mention the Order of the Phoenix once, which he felt as strange since Dumbledore knew that Harry was aware of their presence in the fight against Voldemort. Harry did not bring this up, however, understanding that Dumbledore probably had his reasons for it, and again, it did not concern him just yet. In due time it would, when Harry himself joined the Order and jumped into the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but there was still a few months until he would broach the subject.

"It's getting late," Dumbledore whispered, a great deal of disappointment suddenly coming over him. "And that, unfortunately, brings us to a topic of conversation I wish I didn't have to start."

"What is it?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow, wondering why the headmaster's demeanor had changed from his usual cheerful one.

"Unfortunately, Harry, I am not going to be in the country for Christmas this year." Dumbledore said sadly, truly disappointed that he wouldn't be able to share the holiday with the boy. "I am very sorry, my boy."

"Oh," Harry nodded understandingly, not trying to get too saddened by the revelation. Admittedly, he was very let down, having fond memories of the previous Christmas, where he had gotten to spend a lot of time with the older wizard and had hoped to create even more memories this year. "That's okay, sir, I'm sure you're very busy."

"Are you still going to stay here over break?" Dumbledore asked, curious as to what the younger wizard now intended to do over the holiday.

"Probably not," Harry shrugged, biting his lip in thought, not having a plan at that time. He had very few options, as no one he was friends with would welcome him into their home as far as he knew, unlike what the Weasleys had done in his own time "I'll stay at the Leaky Cauldron, experience Christmas there."

"Okay," Dumbledore frowned sadly, having truly looked forward to spending another Christmas with the boy himself. "I'm sorry again, Harry."

"It's okay, I really understand," Harry whispered, assuring the older wizard that he was okay, not wanting the headmaster to feel bad about not being available for Christmas. He understood that the great wizard had things to do, and who was he to complain about it or to stop him from doing what needed to be done against Voldemort? "Good bye, sir, and Merry Christmas." Harry said, and after Dumbledore returned his Christmas wishes, Harry exited into the stairwell and walked down the stairs with a frown on his face.

Harry stepped off of the stairwell and into the hallway, frowning slightly, clearly disappointed. Disappointed, but knowing he could turn it into something good, he rushed off to find Bellatrix, a plan forming in his mind, one that would make his holiday even better. The pair had not discussed each other's plans for the holiday yet, having been waiting until Harry had spoken with Edgar before talking about it so Harry did not know what she had going on, if anything. "What are you doing over break?" He asked, finding her sitting alone in the library, seemingly creating something, though Harry did not know what. She looked up at him with a furrowed brow, and after seeing his smile, a smile appeared on her face, as well.

"My parents are holidaying with the Lestranges," Bellatrix said, looking over to Harry, the smile on his face not receding. "I'm going to be visiting my uncle Alphard for Christmas dinner, you should come."

"If you want," Harry nodded his head with his smile broadening; willing to go with her if that's what she wanted. He knew this Alphard wasn't like the others, that he was liked by Sirius, who loathed the other Blacks, which Harry presumed was a sign that Alphard was different than the other Blacks. Harry grinned and inwardly hoped that the part of Bellatrix's life that she kept from Harry, the distance she refused to close, the side of her that she hid would soon come to light, and she would make the choice to be with him and leave her darkness behind her for good. He hoped that sharing the Christmas holidays together would help her make her choice, the one that he knew she eventually would need to make: was it going to be him or her blood purity beliefs and her desire for power that she held deep inside of her?

A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews. I did not have any of these chapters written out completely, so writing twelve thousand plus words in a week is a difficult task, hence why I said I would do it if I saw enough interest in it (this chapter is above sixteen thousand words). I have the general plot of the story written, all of the necessary scenes, and I take a small piece of that plot and create a chapter around it. So while I do indeed have the ending of this story written, how I get there is a little more liquid than many probably expect. But I do appreciate the reviews, even anonymous critiques that make little to no coherent sense, as I take them to better myself as a writer, which is the only reason I am here, so thank you for them.

A/N 2: Yes, Hektor Pyrites is my version of the Pyrites character that appeared in the early drafts of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and had talked to Sirius after Voldemort attacked the Potters within those early drafts. Additionally, I'm interspersing some of the facts that are taken from Pottermore (like the herbalism idea: I know JK originally meant for herbology to be called herbalism in the books until she later changed it to herbology, but I took that idea and said that it was changed itself in the Harry Potter universe, rather than just being an author's decision.) I've been doing it for a little while now, but this is the first time where it actually is outright noticeable.


	28. I'll Have a Black Christmas Without You

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Harry and James are now officially friends, so all that's left is for Harry and Sirius to now become friends, hence that'll be pushing the plot forward for the next few chapters.

S/N 2: A lot of Bellatrix and Harry in this chapter, so I'm sure many of you will be happy. This isn't up to my usual standards, as I've been quite rushed, but enjoy! Over 60,000 words in less than a month just to make sure this was out on Christmas Day.

Chapter 28: I'll Have a Black Christmas Without You…

Two days later, as all the students filed off of the Hogwarts Express in London for the Christmas holiday, Harry hung back in the station a bit to talk to Bellatrix, who was saying her goodbyes to her Slytherin friends. Harry turned his attention away, not liking the people who she was talking to, but not criticizing her for it—they had not done anything wrong as far as he knew, outside of being related to some Death Eaters. Eventually, the Slytherins dispersed, allowing Bellatrix to walk back over to Harry to finish up their plans. "So I'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron on Christmas Eve?" She asked tentatively, wanting to make sure they were on the same page when it came to the next few days.

"Sure," Harry nodded in agreement, as they walked through the wall and entered the muggle side of King's Cross Station. "And then Alphard's on Christmas day, right?"

"You got it," Bellatrix whispered, getting up onto her toes and kissing his lips. While they were relatively the same height, the shoes that she wore were without a lift, making him just a smidgen taller. "I'll see you."

"Bye," Harry waved as she walked the opposite way he was going. "Happy early Birthday!" He called out as she disappeared in the throng of muggles, presumably heading towards her house at 23 Dungient Street.

Harry too began walking through the streets of London, headed towards Diagon Alley, where he would be spending the holiday in one of the rooms that the Leaky Cauldron had to offer. Feeling a bit chilly, he wrapped his cloak more tightly around him, as his eyes gazed about the city, admiring the holiday energy that he felt around him. Children ran about, looking in the various windows that showed what each shop had to offer, all the while passing a store that was adorned with images of Father Christmas, with his green coat and long white beard and a bag of gifts at his feet. After a lengthy walk, Harry neared his destination and he smiled, excited at being at the pub that smelled strangely of pipe smoke and mead once more.

Upon arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry walked into the pub, and just as he envisioned, he was hit with a wave of scents. It was a mix of burnt food, smoked tobacco and an odd spice smell that Harry couldn't quite place. Having already owled ahead for his room, he slung his bag over his shoulder and walked up to his room, his usual number 23, before taking the bronze key from his pocket and inserting it into the keyhole. With a twist, the door opened, revealing a small, one bedded room that overlooked the entrance to Diagon Alley, the same room he had over the summer. During the time that he spent at the Leaky Cauldon, the room had become his home, and with his graduation from Hogwarts quickly approaching, it was more of a home to him than the castle felt sometimes.

"Where am I going to live when I leave Hogwarts?" He questioned himself, realizing for the first time that he had to start finding a flat or a cottage to live for the rest of his life, or at least for the foreseeable future. "I wonder how much a flat in London is, I can afford it, right? I'll have to ask around, I'm sure either Edgar or Hagrid can help me." He sighed, closing the door behind him and walking further into the room.

As he tossed his bag over to the side, he fell onto his bed, a plan of the coming days forming in his mind. It was two days until Christmas Eve, when he was set to meet with Bellatrix and spend the day with her. "I'll go Christmas shopping tomorrow, and then see Bellatrix on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day." He whispered with a smile, as he got back to his feet and changed into more comfortable clothes. Noticing it was a bit chilly in the room, he grabbed his wand and pointed it at the fireplace, where the everlasting logs inside alit with flames, warming both him and the room up. "I need a present for her, Dumbledore, Hagrid, Edgar, Xenophilius, and maybe Greta. Oh, and I should get something for Alphard, too."

Harry slept in the next day, awaking late, not really having any plans to occupy his time other than some holiday shopping. He knew that Bellatrix was at her sister's for her birthday, which left the day open to do whatever he felt like doing. When he was awake enough to get out of bed, he quickly jumped out from his covers and ran over to the table in the corner of the room, and took out a piece of parchment and a bottle of ink. He jotted down a Happy Birthday, folded it over in the middle, fastened it to Hedwig's leg and allowed the owl out of the window. He watched as his loyal companion flew away before, with a gust of wind running through the room, he closed the window back up, shivering slightly. Once she was out of sight, he hopped into the shower and got ready for the day.

It was snowing when Harry stepped out into Diagon Alley later that afternoon. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, hoping to stay warm as he shopped for the various presents he needed to give. He went from shop to shop, buying whatever he thought would be good gifts for the various friends and family for whom he was shopping. As he was finished with his gifts, he went to a magical stationary store at the far end of the alley, where he purchased a roll of Spello-tape and wrapping paper that was adorned with pictures of moving snowman, each with a red scarf, a black top hat, twigs for arms, two pieces of coal for eyes, and a button nose. Writing appeared on the paper, as well, as if it was the snowmen themselves that said it, interchangeably saying either 'Merry Christmas' or 'Happy Birthday' depending on what the wrapper wanted.

After four o'clock in the afternoon, he dropped his gifts off in his room and walked down into the pub for a late lunch/early dinner. He ordered a simple meal, and read the muggle paper while he ate, trying to see what he could find out about buying an apartment or a house. He saw a few prices for the monthly rent, but since it was in muggle terms, he didn't know how to convert it so he closed the paper for the time being and gazed about the pub to occupy his time. Eventually, he finished his dessert and got up to leave, saying goodbye to Tom the barman as he headed to the stairs.

He walked back to his room, ordering a mug of hot butterbeer along the way, and began to wrap his presents once he arrived. He flipped on the wizarding wireless that was on the table, turning the channel to one that was playing soft tunes, interspersed with magical Christmas carols that were thoroughly magical—instead of seven swans a swimming, it was seven pixies swooping. He enjoyed wrapping his presents manually, rather than via magic, as it made him feel more connected to the presents that were being given, to the gifts that he had purchased for each recipient personally. Overall, as he drank his butterbeer, wrapped his gifts, and listened to the music, he was happy, so happy in fact that before he knew it, he was already in bed for the night.

Finally came Christmas Eve, where Bellatrix was meeting him at nine o'clock in the morning for breakfast. They intended to spend the entire day together, a fact that excited Harry greatly as it would be the first time where it would be just them and no one else. They wouldn't have to worry about any Slytherins snooping or any gossip circulating: it would be just them. "Harry?" A small voice said from the flames of the fireplace, as the head of a female witch appeared. She had long black hair, heavy-lidded violet eyes, and pointed features, which mixed to form a quite lovely specimen in most opinions.

"Yes?" Harry said, waking up from his sleep, as he rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. He grabbed his glasses off of the bedside table and looked over to the fireplace, knowing that only a few people knew about his presence in the Leaky Cauldron. Then, seeing it was Bellatrix, he grinned and jumped out of bed, suddenly wide awake. "A bit early, don't you think?"

"I can't come," Bellatrix admitted, frowning slightly but noticeably. She was saddened about the news that she was there to tell Harry, that their plan wouldn't go as they had anticipated due to something she had not foreseen.

"Why not?" Harry questioned sadly, having been excited to see her and share Christmas with her. He came closer to the fireplace and stared down at the fire, wondering why she couldn't come.

"Narcissa asked me to come today, and because I'm not going to see her tomorrow, I have to go." Bellatrix replied with a sigh, biting her lip through the flames. "I don't want her to question why I didn't see her and have it get back to my parents. It's…not wise. I can make up an excuse for one day, but not two."

"Oh," Harry nodded tentatively, inwardly frustrated that she still wasn't willing to talk to her parents just yet. In time, she was going to have to if she intended on staying with him past their days at Hogwarts, which he certainly hoped she did. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Bellatrix whispered, truly sorry that their plans wouldn't work out as they thought they would. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. I thought seeing her for my birthday yesterday would suffice, but apparently with my parents leaving the country, she wants to keep an eye on me. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay, I really understand." Harry smiled, not wanting her to feel bad and instead hoping that she would enjoy her holiday. "How could I blame you for having a family?"

"Will you be alone?" Bellatrix asked, hoping that by not seeing him that she was not forcing him to spend Christmas Eve without anyone there with him.

"No," Harry shook his head, though he knew he probably would. "I'll give Hagrid an owl, see if he wants to come visit. I'll think of something." He suggested, hoping that his half-giant friend could come and see him, perhaps spend the day with him.

"Okay," Bellatrix said, wishing that he wouldn't be alone all day, even if he had to spend it with a half-giant. "Well, whatever you do, have fun and I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too," Harry replied with a half-smile, one that didn't quite reach his soul. "Merry Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Harry," She said, before disappearing and the flames returned to normal. Harry stared at the flames for a few moments, before giving out a loud sigh and shaking his head.

Not really knowing what to do, Harry walked over to the table on the other side of the room, jotted down a note and clasped it onto Hedwig's leg. Throwing open the window, he gave her an owl treat and allowed her to fly away, not really knowing if she would reach Hagrid in time. Then, with another sigh, he closed the window and leaned against the table as a great sadness stole over him. He was crushed—he had been so happy at the thought of spending Christmas Eve with her, and now in a matter of moments, it was taken away from him. He dragged himself back to his bed, threw the covers over his head and disappointedly forced himself back to sleep, knowing that he had nothing else to do for the day.

He awoke hours later to a loud banging on his door. He rolled himself out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and meandered over to the door, before opening slightly to see who it was. "Oy, it's Christmas, you shouldn't be sleeping." Edgar Bones said, pushing the door further open and letting himself in.

Startled by his friend's sudden appearance, it took a second for Harry to realize who it was, but when he did, a new energy filled his body. "Happy Christmas," Harry groggily smiled, waking himself up. "What time is it?"

"Time to go down to the pub," Edgar replied, wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulders. He flicked his eyes over to his younger friend, a large smile taking shape on his face. "I have someone for you to meet."

"Really?" Harry exclaimed, remembering Edgar had said he wanted him to meet his fiancée months before during the summer. "Let me take a shower and get ready, I'll be down in like twenty minutes."

"Alright," Edgar nodded in agreement, turning and closing the door, before walking down the stairs. He walked through the pub, heading straight towards a table that had a lone occupant, a witch with reddish brown hair and brown eyes.

Fifteen minutes later found Harry walking down into the pub himself, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked around, scanning the room, before finding who he was looking for next to a table of vampires, who were all drinking a glass of red liquid that Harry hoped wasn't blood. "Sorry it took so long," Harry said, coming up to the table that Edgar was sitting at and taking a seat opposite the wizard and a witch that was sitting next to him.

"Harry Dumbledore," Edgar said, wrapping his arm around the witch that sat next to him. "This is Charlotte Flowers. Charlotte Flowers, meet Harry Dumbledore."

"Pleasure," Charlotte said, shaking Harry's outstretched hand.

"I am charmed to meet you," Harry returned politely, giving her a smile, hoping to make a nice first impression. She seemed tall, he noticed, as she was around the same height he was as they sat, and was very pretty, with fair coloring.

"I've heard a lot about you," Charlotte started, her eyes flicking from Harry to Edgar as a smile played on her lips. "Apparently you and Edgar formed quite the friendship in my absence."

"Quite," Harry grinned, knowing how surprising it would seem that the pair became best of friends over a short period of time. He didn't know how many friends Edgar had before they had became friends, but he assumed that, like Frank Longbottom and Alice Price, Charlotte and Edgar were best of friends and hung out with each other all of time before she left Hogwarts the year prior to his arrival in the past. "Where have you been?"

"After I graduated from Hogwarts two years ago, I joined the Ministry of Magic and worked in the International Magical Cooperation Department, so I was out of the country on a project." Charlotte informed him, happy for the experience but even happier to be home. "But I'm back now."

"Thank Merlin," Edgar whispered, making Charlotte giggle. Harry asked Charlotte about her work a bit more, with Charlotte filling him on all the details, even ones that she probably shouldn't have been saying. She knew that Edgar was greatly fond of Harry, so she too was trying to form a good first impression, a fact that Harry picked up while they talked to each other.

"Are you two heading somewhere?" Harry asked, wanting to see what they had planned for the rest of the day. He figured they were busy with family, as it was Christmas Eve, and as such, was happy that they found the time to come around and see him.

"Yes," Edgar nodded, turning his attention from Charlotte to Harry. "We were on our way to Charlotte's house, but I wanted to spend a few minutes with you. You can come if you want." He said, looking over to Charlotte, who nodded in agreement.

"Thanks for that," Harry said in appreciation, truly grateful of the gesture. "But you two enjoy yourself. Though, if you want, Xenophilius, Greta, and Milton are coming by tomorrow night; I would love for you two to come as well. And I have someone for you to meet too, finally, although you certainly know her."

"Bellatrix?" Edgar raised an eyebrow, remembering how he had seen the pair spending time with one another on Harry's birthday. While he hadn't commented on it at the time, he did have a few concerns that had been alleviated since then and he now had a positive opinion on the matter.

"I think it's about time, no?" Harry questioned back, hoping that all of his friends would like Bellatrix as he was starting to really care about her in ways that made him a bit afraid. "She's different, don't worry."

"If you like her, I'm sure she is." Edgar agreed, knowing that Harry wouldn't be with her if she was as awful as her reputation implied. Harry was a good man, a good wizard, one that didn't stand by when something wasn't right, so Edgar assumed that Harry was the same way around Bellatrix. "We'll be here."

Around twenty minutes later found Harry watching as Charlotte and Edgar disapparated from the Leaky Cauldron, presumably to visit their family for the holiday. Harry looked around the pub, biting his lip, searching for someone that he knew. Not seeing anyone, he gave out a loud sigh that went unnoticed. Having some time to waste and not wanting to be alone in his bedroom, Harry grabbed his cloak from his room and walked down to Diagon Alley, wanting to enjoy the bustling wizards and witches as they went about their Christmas shopping.

Eventually, Harry returned to his room with a bag full of candy. Not having anything to do, he grabbed some snacks and jumped into his bed, intending on writing in the Remus journal in order to occupy some of his time. _"Hello,"_ Harry wrote in loopy cursive as he bit into a chocolate frog. _"Merry Christmas, Remus!"_

"_Happy Christmas, Harry,"_ Black ink replied nearly instantly. _"How has your Christmas been so far?"_

"_Okay,"_ Harry wrote back after dipping his quill in the bottle of ink next to him. _"It's still only Christmas Eve. Christmas won't be until tomorrow."_

"_Oh, well, how have you been since we've last spoken?"_ Black ink wrote, apparently wanting to make sure that Harry was happy and safe, away from any harm that may come to him.

"_Quite well, thanks,"_ Harry returned, biting his lip—it had been a few weeks since he had written in the journal, and even longer since he actually held a conversation with it. He pondered what he wanted to say, what topic he wanted to talk about, before settling on the dueling club. _"I had a rematch with Frank, I won this time."_

"_Good for you, Harry,"_ Remus wrote back, the letters disappearing almost instantaneously for new ones. _"I'm proud of you. Trust me, in his prime, Frank Longbottom will be a great wizard, even better than I was. He'll be right up there with the best that the Order has, along with Edgar Bones, your father, Dorcas Meadowes, and Sirius."_

Harry replied, and spent the rest of the day sitting in his bed, talking to Remus, snacking on candy and listening to the wizarding wireless. They didn't talk about much, just Harry releasing all of his emotions and whatever he held inside of him, happy that he had someone to talk to about the situation he found himself in with regards to Bellatrix. Additionally, Harry had also informed Remus that his plan to confound the Marauder's Map had worked, and Harry's name now appeared as Harry Dumbledore, not Harry Potter. Overall, while it wasn't how he wanted to spend his afternoon, he had to admit, it was fun talking to Remus and celebrating the holiday with him.

At seven o'clock, Harry went down to the pub below, where he met Hagrid for dinner. It was festive and enjoyable, and Harry was thrilled to have spent some time with his half-giant friend, whom had eagerly accepted Harry's invitation earlier in the day. Before long, Harry was meandering his way up to his room, stumbling slightly, before opening his door and falling headfirst into his bed, too tired to do anything else. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was asleep, visions of sugarplums dancing in his head as he dreamed of Christmas day.

Right at twelve noon on Christmas, there was a loud knock on Harry's door. Harry gathered his things, passing by a small pile of gifts that were at the edge of his bed, each sitting unopened, and gave himself one last look in the mirror. With a nod of approval and his cloak in one hand and a bottle of wine tucked under his elbow, Harry opened the door with a large smile, hoping it was who he thought it was. "Merry Christmas!" He said when he saw it was Bellatrix, looking as magnificent to him as ever.

She was wearing a long purple robe, with a silver cloak and a black and purple argyle scarf. The purple of her robe brought out her violet eyes nicely, which were framed between locks of flowing black hair that cascaded down passed her shoulders and ended just above her naval. "Merry Christmas, Harry," She returned, kissing him on the cheek as they hugged each other hello.

"Shall we?" Harry questioned, taking a few steps out from his room and closing the door behind him.

"Give me your hand," Bellatrix said, looking into his eyes and reaching her hand outwards to him. Harry placed his hand on hers, and immediately she clasped down on it and disapparated the both of them away, leaving the pub as if they were never there in the first place. It felt like Harry was being pushed and pulled at the same time, folded between space and time as they traveled a great distance.

When they arrived at the location that Bellatrix intended, Harry fell to his knees, coughing. "What did you do?" He questioned in between coughs, his stomach feeling as if it was in his throat.

"We got here, didn't we?" Bellatrix murmured with a sigh, looking around the area to make sure no one had seen them. It was a muggle street, and though they were in a small alley, she knew that prying eyes could be anywhere.

"Barely," Harry coughed once again, holding his abdomen, still a bit queasy.

"Oh get off it, you git," Bellatrix rolled her eyes in faux agitation, not believing that Harry's experience was as bad as he was portraying it to be. "You're fine." Then, seeing Harry continuing to cough, she bent down and rubbed his back. "It was my first time doing a side-along apparition, I'll get better."

"I would hope you would," Harry laughed, getting back to his feet and looking around the environs. "I don't think it can get any worse."

"You're so getting jinxed later," Bellatrix muttered playfully, wrapping her cloak closer to her body to stay warm as a gust of wind ran through the area.

"I don't like the feeling of apparition," Harry noted with a sigh, having realized that he preferred not to apparate if he could. Like the portkey, he didn't appreciate the feeling it gave him, though he knew that he would have to get used to both if he was going to join the Order of the Phoenix one day. "Where are we?"

"Manchester," Bellatrix replied, flicking her gaze over to him as they started to walk out from where they were, Bellatrix leading the way. "Or just outside of it, more likely."

"Do the Blacks not believe in living out in the country?" Harry questioned sarcastically, shaking his head upon noticing that they all appeared to live in a city.

They exited from behind a stone building and walked down the street a short way, before Bellatrix turned onto a private piece of property. The house in front of them was large and made of brick, and had a small lawn and garden on each side of the walk, which were both covered from the snow that fell the night prior. On the wooden front door in front of them, which was a deep mahogany color, there was a large wreath, adorned with small, festive bows that were made from red and green ribbon. Bellatrix marched up to the door, Harry closely behind her, and gave it two loud knocks before taking a step back and waiting for it to open.

The door swung opened and revealed a man of medium height with short black hair that was graying somewhat. While he had a small belly and wasn't at all in shape, he had large smile on his handsome face when he saw who it was, thrilled to have family visit him on Christmas. "Bellatrix!" The man exclaimed, moving to the side and allowing the pair entry into his house.

"Uncle,' Bellatrix smiled, allowing Alphard to wrap his arm around her shoulders and engulf her in a hug. "Happy Christmas." She said, standing back a few feet and allowing him to view Harry.

"And who is this we have here?" Alphard questioned, staring at Harry with a curious expression on his face, giving the younger wizard a once over with his eyes. Bellatrix had told him she was planning on bringing someone, but she did not reveal who in her owl, which made him quite intrigued by the teenager that was standing in front of him.

"Harry Dumbledore, sir," Harry replied, outstretching his hand for Alphard to shake as he politely tipped his head as if to bow. "It's good to meet you."

"Dumbledore, you say?" Alphard raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to Bellatrix, who shrugged in response. "It's nice to finally meet you." He mentioned, realizing that Harry was the boy that Bellatrix had mentioned in a few of her letters.

"Finally?" Harry said interestedly, inwardly wondering if Bellatrix talked about him to Alphard before. "Oh, this is for you." Harry said, handing over the bottle of wine for Alphard to enjoy. "I hope it's a good selection."

"You didn't have to do that. As for the selection, it is quite good, thank you," Alphard replied, staring down at the label and admiring the brand. "Come, have a seat," Alphard gestured, showing Harry and Bellatrix the sitting room, where a great fire was flaming in the fireplace. Harry entered the room and took a seat in one of the chairs, as Bellatrix and Alphard were discussing something on the couch.

"Would you like something to drink, Harry?" Alphard asked politely, looking over to his guest.

"A butterbeer if you have it, please," Harry replied, hoping Alphard had a supply of the delicious drinks.

"I'll be back," Bellatrix muttered to Harry, following Alphard out, all the while talking animatedly to him.

As he waited for them to return, Harry's gaze moved around the room, studying its decorations. The walls were of a cream color, with a white wooden crown molding that encircled the ceiling. There was a small bookshelf on the far wall, with a wide assortment of books—some were cookbooks, some were history books, while some were magical fiction like the stories of Beedle the Bard, Eccentrissa Frizzle, and other notable writers of the wizarding world. In the corner, opposite from the door and away from the fireplace stood a large, full Christmas tree, with bright golden baubles and silver tinsel wrapped around it. The ends of the branches had snow on them, charmed to stay cool even in the relatively warm room. It was capped off with a brilliant, gleaming gold star that bounced the light from the torches hanging on the wall.

Above the fireplace, meanwhile, hanging by the chimney with care, were three red and white stockings, each made of soft red suede with a tuft of white cotton on the top. Written in silver and gold lettering in the center of the three stockings were the names of their owners: Sirius, Alphard, and Bellatrix. They all looked to be stuffed with presents, though Harry did not know how many gifts filled them as magic allowed more space in small places, which made it hard to estimate. Overall, Harry greatly admired the decorations—they were classy, yet still possessed individual spirit.

Drawing his attention, in the distance, outside of the sitting room he was in, Harry heard a knock on the door and then the footsteps of someone going to answer it immediately following. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" Harry heard a voice question through the walls, sounding like someone was in a great surprise. His gaze moved over to the doorway, where he expected the visitor to be appearing eventually, having an idea of who it could be if the name on the stockings gave him a hint.

"Good to see you too, cousin," The muffled response from Bellatrix came, making Harry smile, realizing that it was exactly who he guessed it was: Sirius. He waited patiently to see his younger godfather come into the room, but he was excited at the prospect of spending Christmas with Sirius again, just as he had once before in Grimmauld Place.

"Where is Alphard?" Sirius questioned, just as he walked into the sitting room where Harry was located, taking off his cloak and placing it down on one of the chairs. "Dumbledore?" Sirius gasped; startled to see Harry there, inwardly wondering what was happening. Coming into the house, he had thought it would only be him an Alphard, but now seeing Bellatrix and Harry there greatly confused him. "What are you doing here?"

"Sirius," Harry smiled, rising to his feet to greet the younger Black. They shook hands, before Harry took a step back and allowed the younger wizard to process everything, gazing at Sirius with a large grin.

"Wait," Sirius said quietly, looking between Harry and Bellatrix, who was standing at the doorway herself before she walked out of the room to get Alphard "You two aren't, no, you couldn't be, could you?"

"Couldn't be what?" Harry asked, raising an amused eyebrow, wanting the boy to spell out his thoughts.

"But I've never seen you two together." Sirius stammered, perplexed by the turn of events. "I mean, a few times talking in the Great Hall maybe, and once in the library, but…"

"Then I guess we are both good at keeping secrets." Harry smiled mischievously, glad that someone finally knew about them. He knew that this would be the first step for Belaltrix, and was thrilled that it was finally happening as he had hoped it would.

"I thought you were an okay bloke!" Sirius exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock, suddenly curious as to who Harry was and how he had been tricked by him so easily. Harry had helped James out with Snape, had played quidditch with them, and had been nice in every interaction they ever had, so to know that he fancied Bellatrix was quite alarming to Sirius

"He is," Bellatrix said, coming into the room along with Alphard, holding a few bottles of butterbeer in her hands. She handed one over to Harry, and another to Sirius, who accepted it with a befuddled look on his face.

"But," Sirius said, opening his mouth before closing it. He repeated the action a couple of times, before shaking his head, seemingly too confused to speak.

"There will be time for that, nephew," Alphard said, taking a seat in one of the comfortable chairs in order to enjoy the company. "Now, now, sit, all of you." Alphard looked over to Sirius, giving the boy a large smile as he plopped down onto the couch. Bellatrix followed suit, sitting on the arm of the chair that Harry was in. "It's good to see you, nephew. I apologize for not welcoming you sooner; I was busy with the roast."

"It's good to see you too, uncle," Sirius whispered back, popping open the butterbeer and taking a gulp of it. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve after he was finished, putting the bottle down onto the table to his right and turning his attention over to the Alphard.

"You really should get a house elf, uncle." Bellatrix suggested, knowing how much work a house was when a person lived by themselves. Even with magic, it was a lot of hard work to keep a house presentable. "Allow the elf to do your cooking."

"And give Sirius' mother here another reason to dislike me when I don't behead it when the elf gets too old? I think not!" Alphard laughed, referencing the fact that his sister always found something to criticize him about. "Plus, I rather enjoy cooking. It's way for me to pass the time."

"Is Andromeda coming?" Sirius questioned, ignoring Bellatrix for a second. He had yet to meet his cousin's daughter and husband due to the troubling times they found themselves in, and had hoped that they would show for Christmas.

"Don't think so," Alphard sighed, disappointed that his oldest niece wouldn't be in attendance. "She and Ted had to travel this year to see Ted's parents; I don't know what time they will be leaving."

"Good riddance," Bellatrix mumbled under her breath, though Harry just barely heard it from his spot next to her. Storing that in the back of his mind, Harry took a sip from his butterbeer and stared into the roaring fire, listening as Alphard and Sirius discussed something about Sirius' mother.

"So, Dumbledore," Alphard said loudly, turning the conversation to Harry, wanting to learn more about the boy that had captured Bellatrix's attention, if not her full heart. "Albus is your great uncle? I never knew he had any relatives."

Harry looked over to Bellatrix, giving her a grin, which she knowingly returned. "Yeah, something like that, yes." Harry nodded, turning his gaze back over to Alphard, who raised an eyebrow in response. "Our family doesn't get along very well, so that's why you may not have known that Dumbledore had family before now."

"You may know his godfather, though." Bellatrix suggested, trying to stop the laughter that she knew was going to come.

"I do?" Alphard questioned, looking from Bellatrix to Harry with a curious expression on his face. "Who is that?"

"Ah," Harry smiled, his gaze instinctively moving over to Sirius, who confusedly looked on as the exchange progressed. "She was kidding."

"Oh, yes, I was joking," Bellatrix snorted, her face alit with such joy that Harry couldn't help but laugh himself. "I sometimes put my foot in my mouth, don't I? If only I could go back in time to change it."

"Go back in time?" Sirius asked quietly, wondering why the pair was having so much fun about a conversation that seemed nonsensical.

Sensing there was something happening that he didn't know about, Alphard laughed, admiring the relationship that Harry and Bellatrix seemed to have. "How did you two become friends? While Ravenclaw and Slytherin get on, it's still curious to see two students from different houses so close to one another, especially in these times." He asked, taking a sip of his drink before placing it back down on the table next to him.

"I taught Harry occlumency," Bellatrix answered, knowing that without those lessons, they probably wouldn't have grown close enough to even realize they liked each other.

"And I taught her the Patronus Charm." Harry replied, as he nodded his head from his seat next to Bellatrix.

"I'm not quite sure what occlumency is," Alphard admitted, furrowing his brows in thought, trying to figure out what the word meant. "But a patronus is strong magic."

"It's an obscure branch of magic," Harry answered with a shrug, wanting to inform him but not go into too much boring detail. "It's sort of like protecting yourself from vibes."

"I see," Alphard nodded, assuming that it dealt with mental magic, an area of learning that he never bothered with. While he was a decent wizard in his own right, he had no false delusions that he was anything but average. "I wasn't much into obscure magic, or any real magic outside of the necessities of life. I'm certainly a decent wizard, I think, however I didn't have the knack for it that some of my family members do." He said, looking to both Sirius and Bellatrix, the two most powerful members of his family, even at their young age.

"Why did you two decide to come here?" Sirius questioned Harry; wanting to know why they wouldn't go to a place that Harry spent his Christmases instead. "Surely you would prefer to be with the headmaster, no?"

"He's unavailable," Harry replied easily, knowing that it was difficult for Sirius to process Bellatrix being there and not spouting blood purity nonsense. As far as Sirius knew, Bellatrix was a future Death Eater, someone who didn't hold the same ideals that he did. "And I wanted to meet Bellatrix's family, so I figured, why not?"

"And where is my dear aunt and uncle, Bellatrix?" Sirius scathed, finally looking to Bellatrix and noticing that she was there.

"With the Lestranges," Bellatrix replied coolly, staring straight back at him. Growing up, they had never gotten along and often fought one another, with Sirius being too rambunctious for her tastes, let alone the way he liked muggles and muggle technology.

"How is your year going in Hogwarts, Sirius?" Harry asked, hoping to stray the conversation away from the two cousins that clearly did not like one another and did not want to be near each other.

"Yes, how is it? Sixth year is always the most tiring, if I recall correctly," Alphard added, agreeing with Harry's tactic of distraction.

Sirius looked over to his uncle, and then went into great detail about his school year, which Harry greatly appreciated. It allowed him to learn more about his godfather, without seeming weird in the younger wizard's eyes. Additionally, it allowed him tolearn about his father, as well, as Sirius had very few stories that did not have James in it right next to him. As such, Harry made sure to keep the conversation rolling, and before long, they had already been there for an hour, enjoying drinks and light snacks, the animosity between the two cousins seemingly forgotten about.

Just then, a buzzer went off in the kitchen, making Alphard jump to his feet. "Dinner is ready." Alphard smiled, as he took deep breath through his nose in an effort to smell the roast from the sitting room. He moved towards the door, before stopping, seeing that no one else was getting up. "Chip, chop, what are you all sitting around for? Go to the dinning room, all of you."

The dining room was big and housed a long table in the center, capable of housing a half of a dozen on each side with another seat at each end. There were four place settings, two on one side, another on the opposite, and one at the head of the table. The plates on the table were made of beautiful china, with sterling silver utensils and fine silk napkins that accompanied a similarly silk tablecloth that was of a deep green color, fitting for Christmas day. At the opposite end of the table, there were a slew of casseroles and empty plates, along with a giant silver platter, making Harry wonder what it was that they were eating. In the center of the table was a centerpiece of pink and red flowers that were arranged around a large candle that smelt like cinnamon. Overall, Harry noted, it was much different than what he had grown accustomed to in the past.

Harry and Bellatrix sat on the side of the table with two settings, while Sirius took the seat opposite from Harry, leaving the seat at the end open for Alphard. A second later, Alphard came into the room, taking his seat at the head of the table, with Sirius sitting on his left, and Bellatrix and Harry on his right, a jovial smile on his face. He lifted his wand, swished it through the air and food appeared on the plates on the far end of the table, allowing everyone to get whatever it was they felt like. Harry eyed the meal: it was a large goose with potatoes, carrots, spinach, sauces and gravies, and golden biscuits, each baked to perfection. In the center of the table was a large pitcher of pumpkin juice, along with a bottle of mead, and a few smaller bottles of butterbeer.

"Well," Alphard said, standing up and using his wand to trim the goose. When the first piece of meat fell off of the bone, he placed it on one of the empty plates and then used his wand to charm two knives to cut the meat for him. "Come, dig in." He said, as they all got up and made their plates. When everyone was seated and the drinks were poured, he looked over the table as they all looked back at him. "Merry Christmas, everyone!" He smiled, as he took his first bite of the meal he himself had prepared with his own hands.

Dinner went by quickly and uneventfully, and before they knew it, Alphard was clearing the table with a swipe of his wand and with another swipe, dessert was served. There were a few different types of cookies, a couple of pies, a pumpkin cake, as well as a large green pistachio cake, glazed with sugar.

"I'm glad that you are here, Sirius." Alphard said, pouring himself another glass of mead and nibbling on one of the cookies.

"Me too, uncle." Sirius agreed with a nod, supremely grateful for everything that Alphard had done for him. "Now that we've both been blasted off of the family tree, you're the only Black I can turn to for help."

"Blasted off of the family tree?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, recalling how the older Sirius had told him about the incident back in his own time.

"Yes," Sirius nodded, a hint of sadness on his face, though his tone betrayed that. "I ran away recently. I had enough of their pureblood mania. And once I left, my mother blasted me from the tree and sent me a howler, telling me about it."

"I wouldn't be surprised if your mother had me killed just by having you over for dinner." Alphard grinned, knowing that it was probably true and his sister would at the very least disown him again for socializing with her son. "I'm expecting that she has an eye on my gold, though if she does poison me as I suspect she will, I've already made sure that you, Sirius, will receive all of it that doesn't go to Andromeda…or maybe only half of it, if things keep up." He finished, keeping an eye on Bellatrix, who was cutting a piece of cake at the far end of the table, away from earshot of the conversation.

"I hope it does," Harry whispered, though both Sirius and Alphard heard him. "I'm trying my best to keep it that way."

"You're a good influence on her," Alphard said, seeing how much Bellatrix had changed ever since Harry entered her life. Before the end of last year, he and Bellatrix had only written to each other once every few years, if that, but that changed over the summer, when the younger witch began to write him on a regular basis. They didn't talk about much in particular, but the conversation was always pleasant, and he could tell that she was trying to get close to him because she was beginning to subconsciously distance herself from her previous close family members and didn't have the courage to contact Andromeda just yet.

The conversation paused as Bellatrix walked back to her seat, grabbing a fork and taking a bit from her piece of cake. "I should be getting over to the Potters," Sirius said after realizing the time, getting to his feet. "It was good to see you, uncle."

"Happy Christmas, Sirius," Alphard exclaimed happily, rising from his seat and shaking his nephew's hand, before they engulfed each other in a hug.

"Thanks again for the present," Sirius said, honestly grateful for his uncle's help.

"Spend it well, Sirius," Alphard lectured, giving his nephew a pointed look, not wanting him to splurge on something superfluous. "Don't go using it all on that muggle contraption you're obsessed about, what's it called, a motorboat?"

"A motorbike," Sirius grinned, correcting his uncle on his mistake. While he did appreaciate the fine craftsmanship of a boat, it was a motorcycle that he fancied, having wanted one ever since he saw one on the streets of London when he was a little boy. "Don't worry, I won't. I have a flat in mind for it."

"Good," Alphard nodded, happy that Sirius would have a place to live. While he had offered his home to the boy, Sirius had not accepted it in an effort to prevent any retribution that would come Alphard's way and instead moved into the Potter household for the time being.

"I'll see you back in Hogwarts, Harry." Sirius said, giving Harry a smile, having enjoyed his company. "Merry Christmas."

"Same to you!" Harry chirped happily, thrilled to have spent so much time with his future godfather. "It was good seeing you."

Sirius made a move to leave but paused and turned to Bellatrix, who just looked up at him from her cake, staring blankly his way, not knowing what to expect. "Bye Bellatrix," He said, gulping down the lump in his throat, the lump that had been created through years of dislike.

"Merry Christmas, Sirius." Bellatrix replied honestly, earning a smile from both Harry and Alphard, who each saw it as a tremendous step. Sirius nodded his thanks and left the room, presumably to travel back to the Potter household.

"Shall we move this to the sitting room?" Alphard questioned, and after seeing the pair nod, he flicked his wand and all of the drinks rose into the air and levitated into the sitting room. Harry and Alphard sat down in their former seats, with Bellatrix taking Sirius' old spot on the couch—the plate that held her cake placed on her lap in front of her as she ate. "I went to Hogwarts with that Charlus Potter," Alphard said, taking a sip of his mead and swishing it around his glass. "Of course, back in the 30s, friendships between Slytherins and Gryffindors were especially unheard of so we weren't friends, but we knew each other even still. We are related, as well, however distantly."

"You went to Hogwarts in the 30s?" Harry asked curiously, surprised that Alphard was as old as that. To him, Alphard looked around the age of fifty, not seventy as it would take to be if one attended Hogwarts in the 30s. _Wait_, _this is the 1970s, not the 1990s_, he thought to himself, realizing that his estimates were off by twenty years because he had momentarily forgotten that he was in the past. Though, why he had thought he was back in the 90s was beyond him, as he knew that Bellatrix was a Death Eater and Alphard dead in the time that he was from, both of whom were sitting on opposite sides of him.

"Yes, I'm old." Alphard smiled jovially, not minding that Harry poked fun at him a bit.

Harry grinned at that, and then furrowed his brows, wanting to see if his thoughts were correct. "And you were in Slytherin?" He asked cautiously, having realized that there was someone else in Slytherin that had also attended Hogwarts partially in the 1930s.

"Sirius is the first Black to not have been in Slytherin. Ever." Alphard nodded in the affirmative, having never personally known a Black to be in anything other than Slytherin. "Even Andromeda, the only Black in four generations to not marry a pureblood, was in Slytherin."

"So then you knew Tom Riddle?" Harry said, more of a statement than a question, for he knew if Alphard was in the Slytherin house during the 1930s then he would had to have run into Tom Riddle at least once while he was there.

"How do you know that name?" Alphard questioned, narrowing his gaze at Harry, not understanding how a boy as young as Harry could know that. "That's his most trusted secret."

"Who is Tom Riddle?" Bellatrix asked, looking up from her piece of cake, having never heard that name.

"No one, forget you heard it," Alphard replied, not wanting Bellatrix to know who Tom Riddle was for fear that it would put her in danger. "But yes, I did. Terrible wizard he was, even back then; obsessed with his parentage. Though, of course that was only behind closed doors, with Lestrange, Nott, Avery, Rosier and Wilkes, and whatever other Slytherin he felt comfortable in controlling. I was not a member of his gang, but I was certainly close enough to many of them that they let me in on what they were doing. I'll tell you, there were a number of nasty incidents that they caused during their time there that were never linked to them."

"Yes, he was." Harry frowned sadly, knowing for a fact that Tom Riddle had always been Lord Voldemort behind closed doors, even if he acted like the handsome, charming, and intelligent Tom Riddle to the outside eye. "He killed that poor girl Myrtle."

"Moaning Myrtle?" Bellatrix questioned, assuming that was who Harry had meant since they were talking about Hogwarts and Myrtle was a ghost inside Hogwarts.

"I reckon your great uncle will stop him one of these days." Alphard sighed in a forlorn tone, taking a sip of his drink and looking out the window, where snow was starting to fall to the ground. "That is my hope at least."

"Wait a minute," Bellatrix started, furrowing her brow in thought, realizing who it was that they were talking about. "Tom Riddle is…He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Forget it," Harry said, repeating what her uncle had told her just moments before, not wanting Bellatrix to have that knowledge. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"So by the way that you are talking, I imagine that you're in support of muggle rights, are you, Harry?" Alphard asked, turning his attention away from the snow, which was always a beautiful sight in his opinion.

"Yes sir, and yourself?" Harry answered, not at all hiding his beliefs from Alphard. While he recalled Belaltrix mentioning a joke of Alphard's that was not pro-muggle, he knew that it wasn't necessarily anti-muggle, either, which left him curious as to how Alphard truly felt on the matter.

"I don't hate muggles, nor do I believe in blood superiority, but I don't want anything to do with them; nor do I look down at any wizard that does want to be around and with them. They can be in their world, while we can be in our own." Alphard answered honestly, which Harry appreciated immensely. "I don't like how purebloods today indoctrinate their children, making them choose between what they believe and what their family believes. That's why Sirius is such an enigma—he was brave enough to rebel outright." Alphard said, watching as Bellatrix shifted uncomfortably in her seat due to the nature of the conversation. He gave a smile at that, knowing that she was going to have to make a choice very soon; a choice that he hoped would make her happy and content with herself. "Even Andromeda didn't do that, as she hid her relationship with Ted until they graduated Hogwarts and she sprung it on the family then."

"That's understandable," Harry nodded, not seeing anything wrong with what Alphard had said since that was how he himself felt in many ways. "And I agree to an extent, so long as our world does not overcome their world and they are free to do as they please."

"Never," Alphard shook his head, not wanting Harry to think that's what he believed. "Wizards are much more equipped to handle lesser space than muggles are, what with our charms that can make a police box five times bigger inside than it seems on the outside. Let the muggles do whatever they want to do, while we do whatever we want to do in our world, I say." He downed the rest of his mead, before pouring himself another glass. "You know, I have quite a few friends who spend nearly all of their time in the muggle world. They break the statute of secrecy on a daily basis."

"How so?" Harry asked with a smile, wondering what they did.

"One works as a muggle housekeeper," Alphard started, laughing at the thought of his friends. "She cleans nearly a hundred houses a day, all the while using magic. She makes quite a living, if I do say so myself."

Harry grinned at that, imagining as a witch waved her wand and charmed cleaning items to do the work for her, allowing her to move on to the next house. "Have you ever been married, sir?" Harry questioned, taking a sip of his tea, trying to decide if he liked Alphard as much as he thought he did or not.

"No, I'm not certain there is a woman out there that could tolerate me enough to be married to me," Alphard laughed, thinking about how preposterous the idea of him being married was. "I wouldn't want to punish any good, wholesome females out there. I stayed single like my dear old aunt, Lycoris."

"Speaking about Lycoris, Harry met her old house elf." Bellatrix stated, looking over to Harry. She finished her cake and put her fork on her plate, and then placed the plate down onto the coffee table in front of her.

"Did you now?" Alphard inquired with a smile, surprised that the elf was still around. "What was his name again, Stubble?"

"Bustle," Harry corrected, having grown a small friendship with the house elf.

"Oh, right, Bustle, how is Bustle doing?" Alphard asked with a laugh, truly having misremembered the elf's name.

"Good, I think," Harry answered with a shrug, knowing that Bustle was very happy working at Hogwarts, if not still a bit sad at Lycoris' death a decade prior.

"Lycoris always treated him like her best friend," Alphard recalled, looking up at the ceiling, remembering his aunt and how she treated her house elf like a friend, rather than a servant. "He was the only one in the world that she spoke to on a daily basis."

"Do you know why she was so private?" Harry asked, still wanting to know if she was as good as Bustle implied. He knew that some house elves were so devoted to their family that they overlooked any negative things they had, and he wondered if that was the case with Bustle—that he was overlooking all of Lycoris' negative traits and that, in reality, she wasn't the person Bustle thought she was.

"She hated purebloods," Alphard answered simply, remembering his cousin, whom was more like an aunt to him, fondly. They always had dinner at least once a week, as she was the last Black that Alphard had any consistent communication with before Sirius and Andromeda began talking to him. "That and she was a lesbian."

"She was?" Bellatrix replied, surprised by that revelation.

"Yes," Alphard nodded in the affirmative. "She knew most of our kinfolk wouldn't accept her for that fact alone, so she became a recluse, which is unfortunate because she was a nice lady. She helped me a great deal, and left me everything she had, except Bustle, of course."

"She was always nice," Bellatrix muttered, remembering how she had received chocolate from the lady back when she was a child.

"The Blacks aren't all bad, Bellatrix," Alphard said with a sigh, knowing that there were a few of his family members that were quite decent—just none of them had the courage to flat out fight against the rest of the family, and instead, hid their decency in order to fit in. "It's just a matter that none of us before Sirius were brave enough to say, 'I don't believe in this.' Not me, certainly not Lycoris, no one was brave enough to stand up and face being blasted off of the tapestry. Andromeda lived with the lie until she could no longer hide it, but even she didn't do what Sirius did and just flat out walk away from the family."

"It's the way we were raised, uncle," Bellatrix whispered, the Blacks being a family that imparted their disrespect of muggles to their children.

"I know what it's like to be indoctrinated, trust me," Alphard said, having a childhood of memories that showed everyone around him mocking muggles for being lesser beings. "Walburga gets her blood supremacy madness from my father, who spent countless of hours in his study while I was growing up searching the family records in order to find a girl from a suitable line for me to marry. And he got it from my grandmother, who kicked her own son out of her house at the age of 11 when she found out he was a squib. The poor kid would have died a beggar on the street if it wasn't for my uncle Phineas taking him in as his own." Alphard shook his head, a mirthless smile forming on his face. "Walburga sits in her ancestral home, like she's royalty, when we only come from a cadet branch of the Black family. If she didn't marry Orion, she would have never stepped foot in that home."

"Walburga is Sirius' mother," Bellatrix supplied, needlessly filling Harry in on the information. "Or did you know that?"

"I did," Harry nodded with a grin, agreeing that he did indeed know who she was. While he had never met the woman for himself, he had numerous interactions with her portrait, usually with her screaming at him about being a half-blood and socializing with her son, who was the worst kind of blood traitor in her mind.

"When Phineas and Lycoris were still alive, we always used to meet up for Christmas." Alphard sighed, a sadness overcoming him as happy memories sprung into his mind, visions of days long since past. "It's nice to have more members of my family join me this year."

They all went silent for a few moments, each looking into the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, enjoying the ambiance and the peacefulness that Christmas brought. "Excuse me, but where is your loo?" Harry asked as he got to his feet, breaking the silence.

"It's straight down that hall, next to the dining room," Alphard replied, motioning to the hallway with his hand. With a nod in thanks, Harry walked out into the hallway, searching for the washroom in the direction that Alphard had pointed.

When Harry was out of the room and out of earshot, Alphard's gray gaze moved over to Bellatrix, who sat on a chair a few feet away from him, quizzically staring back at him. He studied her for a few lingering moments, weighing her appearance, both proud of her and concerned about her. "You know, you're going to have to make a decision soon, Bellatrix, and I just want you to know, that whatever choice you do make, whatever decision you come to, you're going to have people there for you, regardless of the side you choose. Just know that, okay?" Bellatrix looked over to her uncle, who gave her a small smile, before moving her gaze to the floor, a pensive expression on her face.

Before long, Harry and Bellatrix were both preparing themselves to leave. They both fastened their cloaks tightly to their bodies, and Bellatrix grabbed her scarf from the coat rack, intending on using it for extra warmth. Alphard watched them ready themselves from a few feet away, a large smile on his face, happy to have spent the entire day with his niece and nephew. It was a rare occurrence, he knew, but one that hoped would soon become the norm, rather than the exception. "Where are you two off to for the rest of the night?" He questioned curiously, wondering where the two young people would go for the remainder of Christmas night.

"We're going to meet with my friends at the Leaky Cauldron," Harry answered, as Bellatrix wrapped her scarf around her neck. They both walked over to Alphard, closing the distance between them, intending on saying their goodbyes to the host.

"Bye uncle," Bellatrix said, giving Alphard a hug, not knowing when she would next see him. She pulled back and headed to the door, securing her cloak around her body as she waited for Harry.

"Good to meet you, sir." Harry said, meeting Alphard's gaze as they shared a look with one another. He liked the man, who was amiable and nice, not at all like what he had thought Alphard would be. "I really enjoyed this."

"Same to you, son, I wish you a Happy Christmas." Alphard replied in a merry tone, as he shook Harry's outstretched hand and patted him on the arm. "Be good to her," He whispered quietly, making sure that Bellatrix couldn't hear him. "I'll help however I can."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "And Happy Christmas to you, as well." He said, before heading to Bellatrix, who opened the door as he neared her. "Bye!"

"Bye," Alphard smiled with a wave, watching as they exited the house and closed the door behind them. When they were gone, he turned around and walked into the kitchen, intending on eating another piece of his cake before bed.

As Harry and Bellatrix walked out of the house and down the entryway, they were hit with a gust of winter weather, their breaths visible through the cold. "I want to take the Knight Bus," Harry said, breathing the frigid night air, which invigorated him and woke him up from his dinner-induced tiredness.

"Why don't we just apparate?" Bellatrix asked with a sneer, confused by why Harry would want to take the slower Knight Bus, when he could just appear wherever it was that he wanted to go in a blink of an eye. The boy seemed to have an obsession with the Knight Bus in her opinion, taking it whenever he traveled unlike other wizarding folk, who apparated like normal people.

"It's Christmas, a time to try and do different things than normal life." Harry grinned, putting his arm around her and bringing her close to his chest. "Plus, I'm still not fully recovered from last time."

"If you say so," Bellatrix muttered, rolling her eyes in amusement as she gently pushed him. Harry kept his arm around her, however, so he pulled her with him as he fell off the curb and into the empty street.

"You know, we have a week until Hogwarts resumes," Harry said, as they walked back up onto the sidewalk and to the corner of the street to hail the bus.

"Yeah?" Bellatrix replied, wondering what he had in mind. While she usually did school work for the remainder of the break after Christmas, since this was her final year at Hogwarts, she was not as worried about it as she normally would be.

"I want to meet your sister Andromeda," Harry informed her, as the thought of Bellatrix whispering good riddance at the mention of Andromeda popped into his mind, reminding him that the pair did not have a good relationship. "We can have dinner with her and Ted or something."

"No," Bellatrix shook her head, knowing what he was trying to do. She pushed away from him, not wanting to be close to him right at that moment.

"Why not?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, wondering why she had said no without even thinking about it first.

"That's too much." Bellatrix growled angrily, looking down the straight, unable to meet his gaze. She took a deep breath, inhaling the cold winter air in an effort to calm herself. "I'm not…I'm not doing that."

Harry noticed her pause mid-sentence, seemingly changing what she was going to say, and he briefly pondered what it was that she was going to tell him originally. "You're going to have to eventually." Harry said confidently, knowing he was right in the fact that, if they were to work, Bellatrix would have to start talking to Andromeda again.

"You haven't even met Narcissa, the sister I actually like." Bellatrix turned on her heels, her violet eyes wide in fury. She could not fathom how he dared to try and force her to do something that she would have no intention of doing without him even mentioning it; it made her flush with anger at the mere thought of him doing it, let alone actually witnessing him trying to do it for real.

"I already know what kind of person Narcissa is. I know what kind of man Lucius is. I know what kind of boy their eventual son will be," Harry answered honestly, a bit saddened that she grew so angry at the suggestion. "They're people that won't like me and I won't like them. Don't even lie to yourself to pretend that they will."

"You don't know that," Bellatrix snapped, though even she didn't believe it. Inwardly, she knew that Harry would get along with Andromeda quite well, but would not be up to the unattainable standards that Narcissa often had for people that socialized with her—she was harder to please than any other Black, which was saying something, considering most Blacks thought of themselves as royalty.

Harry closed his eyes for a minute, taking a deep breath as he thought of what to say. "If you want, I will meet them. If you want, I will do that for you. I will take whatever they throw at me, but I want you to know that I will not change for them." Harry replied finally, realizing he was being unfair and that he had no right to ask her to do something when he himself wasn't willing to do its opposite. "I will meet them. And I will be myself. Set it up; I'll do something for you, you'll do something for me. But I'm telling you now, if they insist on trying to change me, don't think I'm going to do it."

"Like you're asking me to change?" Bellatrix scowled angrily, even more affronted that he would insist on not being changed, yet dare to ask for her to do something that she didn't want to do.

"I'm not asking you to change at all, Bellatrix, what I'm asking is for you to not kill and torture and humiliate innocent people. Dislike muggles all you want, I love you enough that I can overlook the fact that's how you feel, as long as you don't do anything against them." Harry said, rambling, not really thinking about what he was saying, but just expressing himself as best as he could. "I don't plan on living a life involving muggles very much either, if I'm being honest. After all, you know what my aunt and uncle did to me growing up, I've told you that story, but I'll be damned if I sit around and allow people to discriminate against them just because they don't have magic."

Bellatrix shoulders dropped at what Harry said, her face losing the all negative emotion from it instantly and her anger dissipating immediately. She looked at him for a few seconds, searching his eyes with her violet gaze as her stomach tightened up and her legs felt weak. "You love me?" She whispered to Harry in a voice that was small and innocent, one that she hid from the rest of the world.

Harry stayed silent for a moment, realizing he had said that he loved her for the first time ever. Then, with a small smile on the corner of his lips, he nodded, admitting his feelings for her. "Yes, I'm falling in love with you. More than you can ever imagine."

Without saying a word, Bellatrix reached under her cloak and grabbed her wand, before thrusting her hand outwards, calling the Knight Bus to them. It took a minute for the bus to arrive, but when it did, she placed her wand back into her robes and turned back to Harry. "Fine, I'll contact Andromeda when I'm ready to see her," She said before boarding the bus, leaving Harry on the street. Knowing that what she had said was more than just a simple I love you back, he grinned from ear to ear and paid their fee, taking his seat next to her in the back of the bus. While he knew the conversation wasn't over, that they would eventually have to talk about it, he was content in the ending for the time being, knowing that it would be a process.

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron around a half an hour later, the snow falling as they stepped off of the Knight Bus. They both walked towards the door, before Harry opened it and revealed the bustling pub inside, filled with merry wizards and witches, happy hags, and even some caroling vampires. Bellatrix entered first, Harry following closely behind, and gazed around the bar, wondering where Harry's friends were. "They're in the back," Harry whispered in her ear, interlocking his fingers in hers and leading her to the back room, where Harry had procured a large table and dozens of drinks and other goodies.

At the long table sat a group of people, all laughing and talking amongst themselves. When a female with blonde hair saw Harry, she yelled 'Merry Christmas' happily, which earned the attention of everyone at the table. They all looked at Harry with smiles on their faces, happy to see their friend. "Bellatrix, this is Edgar, Charlotte, Greta, Milton, and Xenophilius," Harry said, gesturing to each person with his hands, introducing them to Bellatrix.

"It's nice to meet you," Greta said with a large smile on her round face, engulfing Bellatrix in a hug, which was hesitantly returned by Bellatrix, apparently unprepared for the contact.

"Grab a seat," Edgar said, gesturing to the two open seats next to him and cracking open two bottles of whatever it was that he was drinking and placing them down onto the table.

Silently, Bellatrix took the seat in between Harry and Milton, with Charlotte and Xenophilius directly across from her. "You were in Hogwarts like two years ago, weren't you?" Bellatrix asked, recognizing Charlotte as Harry and Edgar went off into a discussion that she couldn't hear.

"Yeah, I was in Hufflepuff," Charlotte said, seeing that the girl was uncomfortable and hoping to ease it. She knew the reputation that Bellatrix had, one that probably wouldn't have been given to her if it wasn't true, though the pair had never interacted as far as she could remember. "I don't think we ever talked."

"No," Bellatrix shook her head, feeling rather uneasy, not really knowing what to say or do. While she was a confident woman, strong and capable, she didn't know any of these people, which made her nervous to show her true personality, not wanting to offend Harry and make him mad at her.

"We're not going to bite, don't worry," Xenophilius said, sipping on his drink through a straw that was much too long and loopy for the glass that it was in. Bellatrix looked over at the boy, and seeing how pathetic he appeared, she couldn't help but let out a loud giggle, breaking the ice that was around her. Hearing her giggle, Harry paused his conversation with Edgar, looked over to Bellatrix and smiled happily, glad that it appeared to be working out.

The rest of the night passed by, and before long, it neared midnight on Christmas night. Everyone had retreated home in the late hour, but Bellatrix lingered, intending on exchanging gifts with Harry. To that end, she and Harry sat on the floor in Harry's room, a present each on their laps. The fireplace a few feet away from them blazed, illuminating the entire room in a beautiful light. Their silhouettes flickered against the wall, creating shadows that, somehow, enhanced the ambiance and created a romantic setting.

"This better be good," Bellatrix joked, elegantly tearing off a piece of the wrapping paper. She ripped off of the rest of the paper to reveal a large book of charms, a spellbook that housed many powerful charms, each of which were ones that she didn't know. "This is great." She smiled, skimming through some of the spells, seeing how old they were and understood that most wizards wouldn't know them. "Thank you," She said, truly meaning it.

"You're welcome," Harry grinned, happy that she liked it, having had no idea on what to get her the previous day. With Ron and Hermione, he knew what they wanted, knew what they would enjoy, but also knew that whatever he did indeed get for them, they wouldn't complain—at least Hermione, that is. With Bellatrix, however, he was at a loss, not because he didn't know her as well as he did Ron and Hermione, but because his gift actually mattered, it was important and showed how much he cared about her, which put extra pressure on him.

"Open yours now!" She said, gesturing to the package in Harry's lap, wanting to see if he liked what she got him.

He unwrapped the paper and opened the box to find two pieces of parchment that had dancing brooms on it with writing in orange lettering. "Tickets to the Chudley Cannons," Harry whispered, as a large grin took shape on his face, thrilled at the opportunity to go see a professional quidditch game. "Chudley vs. Wimbourne?"

"The Wasps were my favorite team growing up, and I didn't know what yours was, but I remember seeing the Cannons mentioned in one of your memories when I was teaching you occlumency, so I figured that this would be a good present…if you don't like it, we can find another game." Bellatrix whispered, not knowing if he was happy with the present or not.

"What, no! I love it." Harry smiled, waving off her concern, knowing how expensive tickets were. "I don't really have a favorite team, so perhaps you can help me find one. I was a fan of the Cannons because my friend Ron was, but they weren't chosen by me and to be honest, I wasn't really a fan of them." Harry answered, wanting to find a team that he could root for, one that he liked, whether it be because of the players or the colors or even the team name itself. "I remember the memory you're referencing—Ron decorated his room with all Chudley Cannons stuff."

"Good, because I don't know how anyone could be a fan of the Cannons," Bellatrix grinned, truly wondering how anyone could be a fan of the worst team in the league. "They're awful and they know it."

"Thank you," Harry said, leaning over and kissing her lightly on the lips. Bellatrix kissed him back, before pulling away and smiling up at him, knowing that this was one of the best Christmases she had ever had.

A/N: Merry Christmas! The name of this chapter is a pun on the song "Blue Christmas," just as my previous Christmas chapter of this story was a pun on John Lennon's "Happy Xmas (War is Over)".

A/N 2: The mention of Eccentrissa Frizzle is an Easter Egg. Her books were a gift from Kylie to Harry in my previous story, Harry Potter and the Power of the Past. It's in chapter 29, "Home for the Holidays: Run Run Draco" if you're interested.

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	29. People Can Change

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Alphard will linger in the story for a few more chapters, but he won't be important.

S/N 2: The theme of this chapter is changing, whether the transformation is magical, emotional, or mental in nature, and if people actually can change or not. After all, this is the theme of the entire book series: what's more powerful, your nature or your choices?

Chapter 29: People Can Change

On New Year's Eve, Harry and Bellatrix went to the Cannons vs. Wasps match with the tickets that Bellatrix had given to Harry for Christmas. While the attendance at the match was still high, Harry could see many open seats that went unused, presumably because of the fear that Voldemort spread throughout the country. Sure, he knew it was his first ever professional game, so he had nothing to compare it to, but his gut instinct told him that many people refused to leave their homes due to the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, if the gusto that Ron rooted for the Cannons proved anything about a wizard's love for their quidditch team. Ignoring all of that, the pair got some snacks and some hot drinks and took their seats, excitedly watching as the two teams warmed up, flying around the stadium and loosening up their muscles in the cold night air.

Once the match started, Harry was unsurprised to see Ludo Bagman on the pitch, looking as fit as Harry remembered him from his time in Dumbledore's pensieve. Harry had to admit that Ludo was quite impressive, one of the best players he had ever seen, which made sense, considering how the members of the Wizengamot had treated him back when he was on trial in Dumbledore's pensieve—they looked at him and spoke to him as if he was a national hero, a treasure that was meant to be respected. As a skilled beater, Bagman more than protected his teammates from bludgers, hitting them away from his side over to the other team's players expertly, preventing the other team's chasers from getting into a groove with the quaffle.

Likewise, the other players on the Wasps were just as good, showing how dominant of a team they were. With their yellow and black uniforms, they truly looked like a pack of flying wasps, jetting from one end of the pitch to the other quicker than Harry had ever seen on the brooms that they were using. The chasers had a great rapport with each other, as they always made the right pass, the extra pass, allowing them to score one goal after another on the Cannons. By the time Harry knew it, the score was a lopsided 120 to 10 in the Wasps' favor, showing just how much better they were in comparison to the Cannons. In the end, the seeker for the Wasps caught the snitch, bringing an end to the game with the final score being 350 to 90, a complete blowout, but a fun match to watch nonetheless. When the match was finished, they hopped up from their seats and walked with the crowd out of the stadium, and when they were completely out and away from the public, they both apparated, separately, to the Leaky Cauldron, before starting the walk to Bellatrix's home on Dungient Street. It was a few blocks, and as they traveled, they saw the festive muggles celebrating the New Year, all of whom were filled with the spirit of the night, each wanting to welcome in the New Year: 1977.

In the distance they heard the familiar burst of fireworks, lighting the sky in a brilliant red color, illuminating the city streets below. Harry stopped and watched it for a few moments, a small smile on his face, admiring the pretty colors and the creative displays. From her spot next to him, Bellatrix's gaze moved up to the sky as well; she wore a neutral expression on her face, unlike the look of wonderment that Harry had on his face, showing their differing personalities. She did not understand what was so special about the fireworks, as she knew many spells that created similar results much more efficiently than the muggle practice.

"Happy New Year, Black," Harry whispered into Bellatrix's ear as he kissed her on the temple, earning her attention. She turned towards him and brought her lips up to his own, kissing him passionately as everyone celebrated the coming of the New Year. Bringing his right hand into her own left, she started to walk, continuing on towards her house in the distance, a small smile on her face all the while.

Eventually the Christmas break ended and Harry was on the Hogwarts express, racing towards Scotland on the Sunday immediately following New Years Day. Greta and Xenophilius were sitting opposite of him, as he snacked on a chocolate frog and watched the countryside passing by. Once the express arrived in Hogsmeade hours later, Harry made the familiar walk to the carriages, and entered one that housed many of his Ravenclaw friends. As the carriages carried them to the school, the sense of nostalgia overcame him as he realized that this would be the last time in the carriages, that this would be his last time taking the journey back to Hogwarts for school. With that on his mind, he enjoyed the welcoming feast with the rest of the students in a subdued manner and went up to his room, jumping into bed immediately. As soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, dreaming about what would be in the future, knowing full well that this would be his final time enjoying a welcoming feast of Hogwarts.

A day passed, which found Harry in the middle of a battle, his face red and his breath heavy. He was trapped behind a mound of snow, with Bertram Aubrey and Milton Curd sitting next to him, their breaths haggard, their legs tired from all the running they had to do in order to escape their attackers. They were cold and scared, the beginning signs of great fatigue—they didn't know how much longer they would be able to withstand the assault. "We can't win, we'll die out there," Bertram said nervously, as he looked between Harry and Milton, hoping that they had a plan.

"Don't give up," Harry replied, trying to ease Bertram's concerns and fears. He knew the boy was worried, and was searching for some comfort to make himself more confident in his chances of survival. "I've faced much worse odds than this and I've lived to tell the tale. We can still get out of here, we just need to think."

"What do we do?" Milton questioned, wondering if Harry had a plan to escape the fate that was coming to them. He could hear their enemies gathering strength from across the way, bombarding them with attacks as they waited for their prey to show themselves.

Harry looked around the area, keeping his head ducked under for safety, not wanting to be hit. His gaze moved over the environs, searching for something that could help them, searching for anything that would be of use, before, in the corner of his eye, he saw their saving grace. Gripping his wand in his hand, he looked to both Bertram and Milton, giving them a small smile, confident that his plan would work and they'd be successful in their attempt at getting to safety. "When I say go, run as fast as you can to that snow bank over there," He said, pointing to a hiding spot behind a snow-covered tree—the tree was large and wide, more than big enough to cover them all. "Ready?"

Bertram and Milton both looked over to the tree, before looking back at one another. "Ready," They both nodded in agreement, knowing that it was worth a shot and it could be successful. They just hoped that they had the energy to make it there before their opponents attacked them; if they didn't make it, they knew they would be done for.

"I hope this works," Harry sighed, muttering a spell and watching as a gigantic snowman across the way jumped to life and started sliding towards another snow bank, where their attackers had taken refuge. "Go!" Harry yelled, as he jumped up and ran through the snow to the tree that he had pointed out moments before, Bertram and Milton following closely behind him. They were slow to move as a blanket of thick snow had fallen the night before, covering the immediate area with nearly a foot of it, making them trudge knee-deep to reach their goal.

"There they go!" A deep male voice called out through the cold air, as Harry and the others showed themselves for the first time in a while. "What the…?" The same voice said, turning his attention away from Harry and his friends when, from the opposite side he was looking, the snowman crashed into the four attackers, covering them with ice and snow, giving Harry's group the time required to head for the cover they so desperately needed. Harry dove behind the tree, Bertram and Milton right next to him, each protected from the attackers by the large trunk, allowing them to form a counterattack.

Underneath where the snowman crashed, the snow started to move as the four started to dig themselves out, using their hands and feet to get to freedom. "Hey, no fair!" Greta Catchlove pouted as she dug herself out of the mound of snow that the snowman had dumped on her, grabbing her woolen hat from the ground and placing it back on her blonde head. "We said no magic."

"We said no magic in creating or defending ourselves from snowballs, not outlawing magic in general." Harry corrected with a mischievous laugh, as the three gathered as many snowballs as they could while their opponents were distracted. They intended on bombarding the others as quickly as they could, knowing that the time to strike was nigh.

"I knew I should have been on Harry's team," Xenophilius whispered, as he used his wand to get out of the snow—his wand tip burned with orange light, as if it was a blowtorch. He had taken the brunt of the snowman's attack, being covered with the entirety of the bottom ball of the snowman, which had been about ten feet tall before falling on them, a considerably greater size in comparison to muggle-made ones.

"We had them cornered," Gaspard muttered disappointedly, looking to the area behind the tree, where he saw his opponents gathering snowballs. His eyes flicked over to Derrick, who was starting to pile more snowballs into the small hole that they had created to protect themselves. "What are you doing?"

"They're going to come at us with all they have," Derrick said, gesturing his head over to the tree. He knew that Harry and the other two would attack them quickly since it would be what he himself would do in their situation. "I'm going to be ready for when they do."

Meanwhile, across the way, the others just finished crafting their snowballs, all of which were piled in front of them. "Ready?" Bertram said, looking at Milton and Harry as they all gathered up the snowballs into their arms. "Here we go!" They all ran out, spreading out with Harry going to the left, Milton going to the right, and Bertram in the center, sprinting towards the snow mound that the others were hiding behind.

Before they knew what was happening, before they could gather snowballs to defend themselves, Harry's team attacked the foursome, tossing snow on them in all directions. Greta ducked and covered her head with her arms, protecting herself from the onslaught, as Milton tossed a snowball gently onto her back, not wanting to hurt his girlfriend. Harry, meanwhile, used both hands to throw snowballs at Gaspard and Xenophilius, who mounted a weak defense in response. The most awesome of attacks, however, came from Bertram, who had accumulated the most snowballs before their attack, not wanting to be outdone by Derrick. One after another, he tossed snowballs at Derrick, who threw as many snowballs back as he could in a futile effort to counter the attack. However, he was quickly overrun, and had to take cover from the barrage that Bertram brought against him.

Derrick tried another measly defense, but it was beaten once more, leaving himself wide open for an even more damaging attack. "We give, we give!" Derrick yelled out as Bertram continually pounded him with snowballs, spraying cold snow and ice over his face, head, and body. One of them directly hit his ear, which made it sting a bit, but was otherwise unhurt.

"YES!" Bertram called out triumphantly, dropping the snowballs to the ground, where they splattered back into the snow.

"Bunch of cheaters," Greta giggled, as Milton helped her to her feet. They hugged each other, as they waited for the others to ready themselves to go back to the castle in the distance.

"We did not cheat!" Bertram said proudly, bringing his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Gamed the system, maybe, but certainly not cheat." He finished with a large smile, before helping Derrick up from the hole that he had hid himself in.

Eventually, they all walked into the castle, shivering slightly. "Anyone want to get some hot chocolate?" Greta suggested as the paused at the stairway that led to the Ravenclaw tower, looking at everyone, wondering if they wanted to come with her.

"Can't," Gaspard shook his head in the negative, frowning at the girl slightly. "I have some work I have to do."

"Sure," The rest nodded, saying goodbye and watching as Gaspard walked up the stairs, presumably heading back to the Ravenclaw common room.

"Dumbledore," A voice said from behind, making Harry turn to see who it was.

Harry spun and his gaze met the silver one of Sirius Black, who was making his way through the hall towards Harry. "Oh, hi Sirius," Harry smiled, pausing for his future godfather to catch up to him. Seeing that the group had stopped to wait for him, he shook his head and gestured for them to continue, not wanting to hold them up. "Go on, I'll meet you all there."

Once the group was gone, Sirius stopped in front of Harry for a moment, before continuing on down the wall, Harry following next to him. "How was your Christmas?" Sirius questioned as they walked, Harry not knowing where Sirius was going, but presuming that it was someone close.

"It was great, actually, what about yours?" Harry returned, flicking his gaze over to the wizard, hopeful that he had fun on his holiday.

"Okay, I guess," Sirius shrugged with a neutral expression, making Harry wonder whether Sirius did indeed enjoy his break. "Can we talk?" The younger wizard asked, hoping that Harry had some time to discuss something.

"Sure," Harry nodded, gesturing for Sirius to lead the way. "What about?" He questioned, wondering what Sirius had on his mind.

"Who do you think?" Sirius said, before turning into a small alcove that was hidden away from the rest of the school, where no one could see or hear them.

Harry gave a smile at that, immediately knowing that he meant Bellatrix, his cousin. "What do you want to know?" Harry inquired, willing to answer whatever question that Sirius had for him about her—he knew the boy was confused, having been stymied from his questions by Alphard on Christmas.

"How did it happen?" Sirius asked quietly, the first of numerous questions that he wanted to ask the wizard in front of him. While he hadn't spent his break thinking about it, it was on the back of his mind ever since learning about their relationship and he wanted to ease the concerns that were festering inside of him.

"It just did over time," Harry shrugged, being unable to answer that question for himself, let alone for Sirius. He had no idea why or how his feelings for Bellatrix brewed, all he knew was that they did somehow and he ran with them upon realizing it. "We needed to learn from one another, so we became civil and eventually friendly, and then she came to visit me on my birthday which made us both realize just how much we were attracted to each other romantically."

"Just like that? No questions about her past?" Sirius asked, wondering if Harry knew about the past of who he was dealing with. He didn't care about their relationship in terms of Harry getting hurt by her dumping him; he cared about their relationship in regards to her dragging him down into her darkness, into her world of hatred and power craving, one that led to his prostrating in front of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"I knew what kind of person she was, hated her for it when we first met, but we spent time together and…" Harry shrugged once more, knowing more about her actions than Sirius could ever dream about. She was an arrogant bully that believed in her own superiority and clamored for power, and he knew her ability to do the most deplorable of acts such as the ones that brought her to Voldemort's side and landed her in Azkaban.

"Do you know what kind of person she was? Still is, even?" Sirius questioned, emphasizing the word you, disbelieving that Harry did indeed know Bellatrix's past. "Are you sure you know just the depths of her misdeeds are? I grew up with her, I've known her since I was born, trust me, there are things about her no one would dare make up."

"Yes, and I hate it. Trust me, she's the first person in my life that I've ever given the chance to change and not immediately write it off as a lost cause. Draco, Pansy…people I used to know, I never would have given them a chance." Harry answered, knowing that he would have never given Draco a chance to show a different side in his own time—to him, Draco would always be a mean-spirited bully. "But for some reason, I gave her a chance, I gave her the opportunity and she hasn't let me down yet. She hasn't crossed a line—she's been bad, yes, I understand that, but she's never crossed a line and done something that makes her irredeemable. Trust me, when I first came to Hogwarts, she was the one person in the world I hated nearly as much as I hated the Dark Lord."

"Oh yeah?" Sirius said somewhat argumentatively, not understanding how Harry could know as much as he presumed about Bellatrix. "If she's changed so much, then how come she still hangs out with all of those Slytherins? They're the sons and daughters of Death Eaters, what do you think they talk about, muggle rights? Do you believe that they're conversing on how to make a muggle's day better?"

"It's a process, Sirius," Harry replied easily, not at all perturbed by Sirius' tone. "I don't like her talking to them just as much as you, but if I go to her and tell her that she has to distance herself from them, trust me, she will rebel. By doing that, I'll create a monster worse than you can ever imagine—cold, ruthless, powerful, she'll turn to the Dark Lord instantly, and that is not something that I will let happen. It's a process; when she's ready, I'll talk to her about it, but she's not ready yet. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"I don't buy it, and I'm worried," Sirius said, crossing his arms across his chest and biting down on his bottom lip. "I've seen her gallivanting around with wizards that will be Death Eaters the second they step out of Hogwarts, I know her parents and I know what they imparted to her when she was growing up, her changing does not seem as simple as you make it appear. It seems so unlikely that it's almost comical."

"I'm letting her do this on her own, if I see something that goes against everything she's been doing, I will step in." Harry assured Sirius, having decided on his plans on how to deal with Bellatrix months prior, before even starting a relationship with her. He had only broke those plans once before, after meeting with Alphard and being overly confident, he suggested seeing Andromeda, which was something that Bellatrix was not anywhere near ready for and Harry had to argue with her to smooth it over—it was a mistake that he wouldn't make again unless it was absolutely necessary, which wouldn't come unless he felt that she needed to decide once and for all which path she was going to choose. "You're a Black and you turned out great, didn't you? What about Andromeda? Or even Alphard, to a lesser extent? I trust that she can be good like all of you are."

"It's different for her," Sirius replied, closing his eyes and scratching his forehead, as if he was suddenly afflicted with a headache. He took a few deep breaths, his head down near his chest, before opening his eyes once more.

"Why is that, because she's not you?" Harry returned, a bit peeved that he was so arrogant as to believe that Bellatrix wasn't strong enough to turn to the side of good. "So you think you're the only one that can escape the Blacks?"

"Because I never once believed in blood purity, she did," Sirius answered, making Harry realize the difference—with Sirius, it was never an option to hate due to someone's blood, whereas Bellatrix went sixteen years of her life believing in it.

Harry stayed silent for a moment, weighing what Sirius had said, before he nodded, willing to concede that point. "Maybe so, but I trust that she will do what is right in the end," Harry said firmly, being confident that Bellatrix could do what so many people couldn't and change her ways.

"And if you're wrong?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow, wondering what Harry would do if Bellatrix stayed the course and became a Death Eater, willingly giving herself over to the Dark Lord.

Harry looked down at the ground, his heart skipping a beat at the idea of him being wrong and Bellatrix not being with him. "Then I will live with my mistakes and make sure to correct them." He whispered, though Sirius heard him clearly.

"Be careful, Dumbledore, I just don't want to see you go down with her," Sirius replied just as quietly, having recognized the emotion in Harry's voice. "And no, that's not a threat, it's a concern. You're my friend. You're a good man, a good wizard; I know firsthand of what the Blacks can do to people. Just be careful, okay?" He headed over to the alcove's entrance before stopping and giving Harry a smile. "I'm really not trying to be a git, I'm just…I don't want her conniving her way into Alphard's life just to hurt him, that's all. In my heart, I hope that she does turn it around one day, because I know the kind of witch that she is, smart and powerful—she would do a lot of good in the world if she just saw what was right and what was wrong."

"I understand that," Harry replied, biting his lip in thought, his countenance pensive, recognizing Sirius' concern. "I'll protect Alphard's interests, as well." He said, having taken a liking to the older wizard during the short time that they had interacted with one another.

Sirius nodded, staring right at Harry, their eyes meeting for just a moment. "See you," He waved, before leaving down the hall, presumably heading back to the Gryffindor tower. Harry stood in the alcove for a few silent moments, going over everything that Sirius had said before he too left, walking in the direction of the kitchens where he knew his friends were enjoying some hot chocolate in an attempt to warm up.

Harry awoke on Tuesday and tiredly walked down to his Transfiguration classroom for his first class of the new semester. He sat in his usual chair and took out his books, giving a small smile to Bellatrix, who raised an amused eyebrow at him in response. After she turned away and started talking to her cousin Evan, Harry bit his lip as memories of the conversation with Sirius the previous day came rushing back to him. He knew who Evan Rosier was: he was a murderer that had been killed during a struggle against Aurors in an attempt to escape imprisonment in Azkaban along with his friend Wilkes. He recalled how Evan had blasted off a piece of Mad-Eye Moody's nose in their duel, before Mad-Eye finally got the better of him and downed him for good, depleting Voldemort of a loyal Death Eater.

As Harry's mind drifted off, wondering how close Bellatrix was to her Rosier side of the family, at the front of the room, sitting quietly on top of Professor McGonagall's desk was a brown tabby cat. The cat stared at all of the students as they came in, tilting its head in seeming welcoming, silently saying hello to the young wizards and witches that walked through the door. Once the last student took her seat, the cat hopped off of the desk and changed into a human female in midair, whom landed gracefully without missing a step. The woman had black hair that was pulled into a tight bun and wore elegant green robes, along with a pair of glasses that were adorning her stern, aging face.

"Hello class," McGonagall said, straightening her robes with her hands as she stood in front of the students. "I trust you all had a pleasant break. This semester, as I informed you at the beginning of last term, will deal with human to animal transfigurations. Now, the reason why I changed from my animagus form into my human one just now was to give you an idea about the differences between transfiguration and animagi. If you will turn to page 140 in your book, you will see a chapter detailing the differences between the pair. Please, take this time to read that, and we will have further discussion after you have completed."

Tiredly, Harry opened his book and turned to the assigned pages. The first few pages was an introduction, which Harry paid no mind to, having already performed human to animal transfiguration during a duel with Rodolphus Lestrange a year prior. On one of the middle pages, however, he sat up in his chair, noticing that it listed the registrants to the animagus list at the Ministry of Magic for the twentieth century—there were only six up until then, with Harry knowing another one would soon show themselves, perhaps even someone he went to Hogwarts with. The first name on the list was a woman named Sheldonna Green, who had achieved the transformation more than a decade after the turn of the century in 1911. Sheldonna was followed closely by Arthur Barretts, who registered four years later in 1915. Next came Kingsley Crabbe in the mid-1920s, before Hopalong Wallis, who registered himself in 1943; next was unsurprisingly Minerva McGonagall, who had first registered in 1954, a year or so after she had left Hogwarts as a student; finally, the last name was Ariella Malkin, a witch that had become an animagus in the late 1960s.

Harry stared at the last name for a few lingering moments, inwardly wondering whether Ariella Malkin was in anyway related to Madam Malkin, the proprietor of the robes shop in Diagon Alley, if not the very lady herself. Outside of Malkin, he recognized some of the names that were on the list like McGonagall and especially Kingsley Crabbe, whom he assumed was an ancestor of Vincent Crabbe, a wizard who would become a large, stupid crony of Draco Malfoy in the future. The rest he had never heard about before then, but he presumed that they were powerful wizards and witches as becoming an animagus was a difficult skill to master, one unable to be performed by weak people, barring Peter Pettigrew, who was tutored through it by two exceptionally powerful wizards. Shaking his head, he returned to the page, continuing on with his assignment, hoping that the class would end quickly so he could take a nap.

Harry finished his reading in twenty minutes, and looked up at the professor, who was scanning the room to see how many were still reading. As Harry waited for the others in his class to finish their own reading, he pondered what forms the five other animagus registrants took, knowing that McGonagall was a cat herself. However, before he could think about it in any great detail, everyone was seemingly finished and McGonagall walked down the column of desks and began to lecture. "As you have just read, unlike animation, there is no known reason for why human to animal transfiguration was developed—animation was used as a defense by the Chinese Emperors in animating their army of terracotta warriors; conjuration was used to procure objects one did not have; inanimate transfiguration was used to secure things one could not afford. However, reasons for human to animal transfiguration's genesis are non-existent. The most common idea is that human to animal transfiguration was probably just used as a torture device or as a way to annoy people that bothered you, but regardless of its origins, you should know the dangers that the art possesses."

"The main danger, and the very difference between an animagus and transfiguration, is that being transfigured into an animal prevents someone from changing back on their own by their own free will—they need help to do that, unlike animagi, who can go back and forth between transformations under their own power. Because of that danger's presence, I will be taking a more active role in your lessons, surveying the room at all times in an effort to make sure that you leave Hogwarts the same way you came all those years ago, as humans." She continued, walking back up to the fount of the class and taking out her wand, making sure that everyone was listening to her intently. "The first spell we will try is the human to rodent transfiguration, a simple spell in comparison to the ones that we will be completing later on, but one that will show you all of the intricacies of this area of transfiguration. What I want you all to do now is pair up with another individual, with that person then being the one who will transfigure you and be transfigured by you for the remainder of the year."

Harry looked at Bertram next to him, who smiled back, accepting the silent question and agreeing to pair up with Harry. Harry's eyes flicked over to Bellatrix, who paired up with Evan, a more than decent wizard in his own right. Frank Longbottom, meanwhile, joined with Alice, who was a bit more skilled than Frank was when it came to transfiguration, though the both were exception in the craft. Everyone else seemed to pair up with the person next to them just as Harry and Bertram had, and before they knew it, their desks were off to the side and they were trying to turn each other into rodents. Only a few were successful during the first day, but McGonagall saw promise in all of them nonetheless.

The next day came, Wednesday, which found Harry making the familiar trek up to Dumbledore's office for the first time since returning to school. He had a pensive expression on his face as he walked up the stairs, thinking about the various topics that he wanted to discuss with the great wizard. He had researched a bit over break, but he spent much of his time with his friends and Bellatrix, which prevented him from detailing many of the things he wanted to accomplish, like learning more about the Peverell brothers and their connection to the Deathly Hallows. However, that didn't bother him as he knew that it was finally time to get answers, rather than questions, at least on some things, so with that in mind, he gave the door a loud knock and entered after hearing the muffled voice from behind.

"Harry!" Dumbledore grinned, rising from his seat behind his desk to greet the younger wizard. He had not seen the boy for nearly two weeks, and if he was honest with himself, he missed his company. "How are you, my boy?"

"Great, sir, thanks," Harry returned, shaking the great wizard's outstretched hand before they both took a seat in their respective chairs, each across from the other. "What about you?" He questioned politely, hoping that Dumbledore wasn't too busy or tired from all of the work in the fight against Voldemort.

"No complaints, except for the obvious," Dumbledore smiled with a shrug and a gesture to the window, where the wizarding world was in a war against tyranny and fear. "I appreciate the gift you gave me for Christmas." He said as Fawkes hooted over his shoulder, referencing the box of candies from across the globe that he had received from Harry. "As did Fawkes, it seems." He added with a smile, as Fawkes cooed in appreciation, showing just how intelligent of a bird he was.

"No problem and I liked your gift to me, as well," Harry replied, having received a silver instrument that he had yet to understand fully. It was something that seemed as if it would be quite at home in the headmaster's office, which made Harry assume that it was a powerful magical device that had unknown powers, ones that would hopefully show themselves to Harry one day. "Thank you for it, sir."

Silently, Dumbledore rose from his seat once more and grabbed two glasses from the wooden cabinet before pouring an amber colored liquid into both of them. "Merry Christmas, Harry," Dumbledore smiled, handing of the glasses over to the younger boy and clinking them together in a toast.

"Thank you and Happy Christmas to you, too, sir." Harry grinned, taking a sip and appreciating the flavor of the drink. "Truly, thank you for the present, it meant a lot."

"It was nothing, Harry," Dumbledore nodded, coming back around and regaining his chair. He gave the boy a large smile, as he leaned back in his seat, his gaze moving over Harry's face, noticing how much older the boy appeared since the last time he saw him. It was as if Harry had matured a year or two in the span of a few short weeks, as instead of a teenager, he now appeared like a young adult, one ready for the life that was ahead of him.

"Did you have a good break?" Harry questioned, as he held his glass in his right hand, taking a sip every now and again.

"It was busy, but yes, very insightful." Dumbledore replied vaguely, not revealing what he did during his time off from Hogwarts. "I hope you had the same."

"I did," Harry answered in the affirmative, having enjoyed his vacation just as much as he had enjoyed the Christmas a year prior. "I met Alphard Black." He added, filling Dumbledore in on one of the many surprises that his vacation brought him.

"Did you now?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, wondering what the boy thought of the man. "He was always very cheerful while he was in Hogwarts, if I recall. Not at all like most others of his kin of his time."

"He's still like that," Harry nodded in agreement, remembered how jolly and jovial Alphard was on Christmas. "Maybe a bit lonely, but he seemed happy."

"Age does that to a person," Dumbledore sighed, staring out the window, knowing full well the effect that the passage of time had on older people. "Loneliness is the bane of old age, but I'm glad to hear he is still the same way as always."

"Very much so," Harry agreed, as he took another sip of his drink. They stayed silent for a moment, each enjoying their time together, a relaxed feeling in the air. "Professor," Harry started, knowing that his time in Hogwarts was drawing to a close and he needed to start preparing himself for his time outside of school. He needed to start learning more from Dumbledore, instead of letting the old headmaster give vague, non-specific answers to all of his questions. "When I first came into your office the first night of my seventh year, you said 'unless' when you were thinking about why Voldemort and I are still connected in this time; I was wondering, can you explain that some more?"

"Are you sure you wish to hear it?" Dumbledore asked, sitting up in his seat, surprised by the sudden turn in conversation. He knew that Harry would ask him about it someday, but he didn't think it would be while the boy was still in Hogwarts. "You may not like what you hear."

"Yes," Harry nodded in the affirmative, steeling himself off from whatever he might hear, whatever dark answer he would receive. No matter what Dumbledore said, he wanted to know about it as he felt that he was ready to know about it, even if it was something that a normal seventeen year old shouldn't be informed about.

"You have a piece of his soul inside of you, Harry; you were like a horcrux for the Voldemort of your time, but not exactly a horcrux." Dumbledore answered bluntly, getting to the crux of the matter without pause. "However, that piece of soul is reaching out to the current Voldemort, giving you a one way connection into his mind—he is unconnected to you, and appears to not know about it at all." Dumbledore continued, having spent many a night thinking about the matter privately in order to best understand Harry's dilemma. "You do not serve as a horcrux for him in this time, at least I don't think, but you are a liability to him, a weakness of which he is unaware."

"Voldemort is inside of me?" Harry whispered with wide eyes, shocked at that revelation. _When did he make me a horcrux?_ He questioned to himself, inwardly trying to figure out when Voldemort would have the time to perform the spell. _Perhaps when I was in the graveyard…wait, no, he tired to kill me, that doesn't make sense_, he continued his thoughts, before Dumbledore's voice brought him out of his stupor.

"A piece, yes, but because I was not there, I cannot explain to you how it happened exactly, I'm sorry. I would imagine that his soul in your time had become so tarnished and unstable that when the Killing Curse rebounded back on him and destroyed his body, a sliver of his soul split apart and attached itself to the closest living thing, you." Dumbledore replied pensively, sorrowful for the fact that he couldn't distinguish how exactly it happened without having more knowledge on the subject than Harry knew about it himself. All he knew about it was what he could find out from Harry himself, and as such, he was forced to put the pieces of the story together while missing much of the background information, leaving large holes that could not be filled unless one was to guess. "By learning and employing occlumency, you're not keeping him out from your mind; instead you're keeping that bit of soul from reaching out to him."

"Wow," said Harry, dumbfounded, not really knowing how to reply. The idea that a sliver of Voldemort's soul, dark and evil as it was, was inside of him made him a bit uneasy, and brought about many thoughts that he could not comprehend.

"There is more," Dumbledore started, not wanting Harry to think that was all the information he had on the matter. "Now that that piece of soul has nowhere to go, it is trying to reach out, but is ever so slowly merging with your own soul. I'm sure you have seen your abilities grow ever since coming into this time. Before it was simply attached to you, like a wart on a toad, but now it is becoming a spot on a dog, a piece of your own soul and part of your very own being. Eventually in time, it will be as much a part of you as your nose is or your green eyes are."

"Merging with my soul?" Harry questioned, jerking his head at Dumbledore's words, taken by surprise by their message. "Does that mean I'm becoming more like Voldemort?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore shook his head, believing it to be an almost laughable suggestion. "You're too pure for that piece of soul to even change you just a little, to corrupt you even just a smidgen, instead the qualities that you have received from that piece of soul will become your own. Unconsciously, you already call upon these powers, but now, they will simply be your own as if you had been born with them."

"So I won't be different?" Harry asked, wanting to be reaffirmed that nothing about him would change, that he wouldn't transform into a different person, one more similar to Voldemort.

"No," Dumbledore replied tenderly, hoping to ease the younger wizard's concerns. "From the moment I saw you, I knew your scar was a mark from a curse, and an evil one at that. It wasn't until we discussed your past more deeply did I understand it fully. You will not be any different than the boy that came through my door a year and a half ago, saying that I was dead and he was from the future, except for the aforementioned abilities that are now thoroughly yours."

"And what abilities are those?" Harry asked tentatively, grimacing at the thought that he was only getting better with magic because of Voldemort—he wanted to know which accomplishments were his own and which were induced by the piece of Voldemort's soul inside of him.

"I believe you have the ability to speak parseltongue, yes?" Dumbledore said with a raised eyebrow, trying to recall whether he had seen a memory of Harry as a child talking to a boa constrictor at what seemed to be a muggle zoo or if he had misinterpreted that memory. "That is now yours forever."

"What about my ease at learning new magic now?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, wondering if that was why he grasped magical concepts much more easily now than he had in his own time. "What about my ease at learning quicker and more easily than I did in the past?"

"Hard work and dedication, each aided perhaps by your natural talent for magic," Dumbledore replied calmly, making sure not to damage Harry's confidence in himself. "You're the very same person that you've always been, because of the choices that you have made. Nothing has changed. Remember, it is our choices that define us, Harry, not our abilities."

Harry gave a small smile at that, having heard a similar speech from Dumbledore after battling the basilisk in his second year. "Okay," Harry eventually said with a sigh, a bit relieved at the information.

"You are a smart boy, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, having witnessed the boy's wit many times in the confines of his office. Sure, he probably wasn't the most brilliant of scholars, but his responses and reactions to situations were some of the best he had ever seen; Harry had something that not many wizards possessed, something that would protect him well beyond books ever could—common sense. "Have confidence in your own abilities, rather than search for a reason for them. You're humble, and humility is a great magic in its own right, but having confidence in yourself does not betray your innate humility, so long as that confidence does not become arrogance."

Harry nodded and bit his lip, silently thinking about the implications of being a horcrux for someone would be, trying to decipher what exactly would happen if he truly was a horcrux for Voldemort. "Wait," He started slowly as a thought popped into his mind, one that chilled him to the core. "If I were a horcrux, hypothetically, that would mean that I would have to die in order for Voldemort to die, wouldn't it?"

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore replied, sitting straighter in his seat as if he hadn't expected that string of questioning. "There are ways to extract the piece of soul without killing the holder. But to answer your question, if you were to have died, that piece of soul would have died along with you, yes."

"Has that ever happened before now?" Harry asked curiously, not knowing whether it was a common practice or not. "I mean, a human being a horcrux for someone?"

"Not that I am aware," Dumbledore answered with a shake of his head, not recalling a single instance of a human being a dark wizard's horcrux before meeting Harry. "While a sliver of a soul may be enough to control animals, small mammals, it is most likely not enough to completely overpower a human for an extended period of time, which makes having a human be a horcrux a risky proposition since that human has the ability to destroy the piece of soul inside if he or she so chooses. Of course, an exceptionally weak willed person may be susceptible to long term control from the sliver of the soul inside of them, but I have faith in people being able to fight it if they so desire."

Harry furrowed his brows as a thought popped into his mind, spurred on by something that Dumbledore had said. "Do all horcrux creators have the ability of possession, or is that just a skill that Voldemort learned?"

"All of them have it in some form or another, maybe not up to Voldemort's abilities, but they do have it." Dumbledore replied knowingly, fully aware of the fact that possession was one of the benefits that horcruxes bequeathed to the dark wizard that created them as it allowed the broken off piece of soul to flit in and out of the horcrux. "Possession itself is a dangerous situation, as you imbibe that who takes you on with all of the weaknesses that you yourself have."

"That's why Quirrell couldn't touch me," Harry nodded in understanding, putting the facts together. "But you also get the strengths, correct? I mean, for instance, let's say a horcrux came into the possession of an individual, and that piece of soul within the horcrux flitted out and managed to possess that individual, wouldn't they get all of the strengths of that piece of soul? Like, let's say that soul piece had the ability to speak parseltongue…"

"And all of the weaknesses at the time of its creation, yes," Dumbledore added, conveying that point with emphasis. "If you develop a weakness after the horcrux was created, you would be safe, but if that weakness was inherent at the creation, then you would get the weaknesses and the strengths at that time."

They both stayed silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, with Harry going over everything he had learned that night. Dumbledore rose from his seat and poured himself another glass of the amber liquid, before returning to his seat and sloshing his drink around the glass, a happy aura about him. It was peaceful, Harry noted, which made the next thing he wanted to ask much more difficult than it probably would have been. Harry's gaze stayed firmly on the desk in front of him, but then he looked up and caught Dumbledore's attention, and he gulped down the lump that was appearing in his throat.

"Can I ask you something, sir?" Harry started slowly, hoping not to offend the aged wizard with what he was about to say. "I don't want you to take it out of context or take it the wrong way or anything like that, though."

"I will keep that in mind," Dumbledore nodded, turning his bespectacled vision to the younger boy. "Go on."

"Why are you talking to me, professor?" Harry questioned simply, wanting to know why he was in the man's office every Wednesday night and why Dumbledore had begun seeing him so regularly. "Last year, you basically ignored me, though ignoring isn't the proper word since you didn't do it purposely, but I never saw you. Now, this year, I see you every week? I'm just wondering why. What changed?"

"I didn't ignore you, I wanted to give you time to adjust first," Dumbledore said in a neutral tone, not at all upset by Harry's inquiry. "But I always made sure you were in the best position to succeed in this time, even if I wasn't seen doing it."

"But still, why are you talking to me?" Harry prodded cautiously, attempting to learn why exactly Dumbledore would take time out of his Wednesdays to discuss whatever it was that came up through the natural course of conversation. "And I don't want you to think I don't appreciate it, because I do and I intend on continuing it, but…"

"Because I care about you, Harry, and as one of the only people in the world that know the true you, I knew that I would be someone that you could trust." Dumbledore interrupted, answering more precisely this time. "I felt, and still feel, honored to be part of your life and I want to make sure that you know that."

"I do know that," Harry replied quietly, knowing that Dumbledore would not have given him a family heirloom such as his pocket watch unless he cared deeply for him. The watch that had been given to Harry was the pocket watch that had been given to Dumbledore by his mother, the one that he himself had used everyday before acquiring his father's old watch and using that one instead. 

Dumbledore gave a small smile, before taking a sip of his drink, putting the glass back down on his desk and staring back at Harry. "Do you know why I suggested the name Arold all those months ago?" He asked conversationally, wanting to know what Harry thought about the name.

"No," Harry shook his head in the negative, having wondered about the strange name but never questioning it out loud. He had never heard the name used prior to Dumbledore suggesting it, but had seen it mentioned once or twice in various wizarding history books since adopting it as his own.

"It was the name of my grandfather: Arold Dumbledore." Dumbledore sighed with a small grin on his face, remembering his late grandfather fondly. The man had died a few years after Albus had entered Hogwarts, but Dumbledore could still hear his grandfather's voice whenever he closed his eyes, which was surprising, considering it had been almost a century since his grandfather had last drawn breath. "He hated his name so much that he made sure to give my father a name that sounded noble or honorable, hence my father being named Percival." He finished with a laugh, missing his family dearly in that moment. "Apparently Percival sounded normal back in the mid-1800s; or at least more normal than it does today."

_Kind of like Tonks_, Harry smiled, as a vision Tonks' pink hair jumped into his mind, reminding him of the energetic and fun Auror in the future who refused to be called by her first name, Nymphadora. "Interesting," Harry said, honored that Dumbledore gave him the name of a grandfather. It was a stupid name, he knew, but he still felt honored by it.

"Yes, he was a Ravenclaw just like yourself," Dumbledore informed him, giving him more detail about the Dumbledore family than what many knew, barring of course his family friends like Dedalus Diggle and Bathilda Bagshot. "He was a skilled transfiguration master, perhaps from whom I inherited the talent, but he was incredibly skilled nonetheless—an animagus himself."

"What form did he take?" Harry asked, wondering if it would be a phoenix or something. He had no idea if people could become magical animals by way of an animagus transformation, but he couldn't help but think a phoenix would be quite fitting for a Dumbledore, even if it wasn't the Dumbledore in front of him.

"That of an eagle," Dumbledore replied instantly, as if it was on the tip of his tongue before the question was asked. "Don't ask me what specific type, because my aunt Honoria never told me."

Harry nodded, biting his lip, having never known about an Honoria Dumbledore. Were there more Dumbledore's out there than he knew? "Why did you never become an animagus, sir? I know Professor McGonagall is a tabby cat, but I've always wondered why you, the greatest wizard of the age, hadn't learned the art."

"What makes you think I didn't?" Dumbledore questioned with an eyebrow raised in amusement, contemplating why Harry would think he wasn't an animagus.

"Because you're not registered in this century," Harry replied, furrowing his brows in an effort to recall the names that he had read of the animagi that were registered in the twentieth century. "I checked yesterday, and the name Dumbledore didn't appear—Green, Malkin, Crabbe, McGonagall, Barnaud or Barretts or something, and someone else I can't remember, but no Dumbledore."

"What makes you think every animagus plays by the law and registers?" Dumbledore supplied with a smile, knowing that a good number of animagi in the world's history wanted to avoid punishment through their animagi forms, and therefore did not register like they were supposed to do—or were born before the registry was put in place. "Or even that I didn't register last century?"

"Good points," Harry agreed, knowing it was a private question, though he knew that Dumbledore wasn't an unregistered animagus like his father and Sirius were—he seemed too honorable for that, even if his father and Sirius were honorable themselves. However, he did not think about Dumbledore being registered during the last century, a list that he had not read for himself and could very well show one Albus Dumbledore on it.

"To answer your question, though, it's simply because I wasn't interested in it when I was younger." Dumbeldore shrugged, having not really spent much time thinking about it as a youth. While he did indeed love transfiguration and was fascinated by many of its facets, the animagus transformation was never something he was drawn to, though he never knew why. "And now it seems a bit unnecessary."

"Oh," Harry nodded in understanding, realizing that changing into an animal perhaps wasn't for everyone. After all, some people might not find turning into a smelly, hairy animal as majestic as Harry did, which was probably a normal response. "Why is it so difficult to achieve?"

"For one, because you risk transforming into a full on animal without anyway to change back on your own if you start the process too soon." Dumbledore lectured, having personally informed Professor McGonagall on how to go about the transformation during the younger witch's time at the school. "Additionally, you could do something similar to splinching yourself in apparition if you don't have the resolve or know all of the details in the process; you can transform partially, which brings about a great and terrible pain. You could transfigure your brain into an animal one, limiting your intelligence, as well, which could be incurable. There are a whole slew of things that make it very, very dangerous, but most importantly, you have to be prepared in mind, body, and magic before you can transform—if not, you are in for trouble and should prepare for a long stint in the newly named Janus Thickey ward of St. Mungo's."

"That's why it takes so long?" Harry asked, realizing that people probably took more time preparing themselves for transformation, rather than researching about it.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, experienced in the profound side effects that could potentially happen if one was to try the transformation too soon. "The length of time and the amount of hard work that it takes acts as a deterrent, which is why not many even attempt it. After all, it would be quite unfortunate to go through all the work to transform and find yourself as an animal that can't do anything because of its size or lack of natural abilities."

"That would be a downer," Harry laughed, grimacing at the idea of someone wasting their time only to turn into an elephant—while it would be interesting to do such a thing, its size would be extremely problematic.

"I remember when Professor McGonagall came to me during her fifth year asking me about the art," Dumbledore supplied in a fond tone, as if he was wistfully remembering better days. "She wanted to broaden her research in transfiguration and inquired if I could help her. I procured for her a few books that she would have been otherwise unable to read and watched over her as she began her endeavor. It wasn't until a few months after she left Hogwarts that she was able to achieve the transformation for the first time."

Later that night, as the moon was full high in the sky, Harry sat on the window sill next to his bed, the Marauder's Map opened up on his lap. He looked down at the moving dots on the piece of aged parchment, watching as a group of three rushed out of the main doors of the castle and headed towards the Whomping Willow that was planted just outside of the castle in the courtyard. Other dots bustled about the three as they made their way, presumably hidden from view by the magic of the invisibility cloak that James possessed. His eyes moved from the map up to the moon that shone bright with an eerie silver light that illuminated the ground below.

The conversation that he had with the headmaster an hour or so prior, specifically when Dumbledore spoke about his animagus ancestor, put a thought into his mind that he hadn't given time to since first learning about his godfather: exactly what type of dog was Sirius while transformed as an animagus? During the summer between his third and fourth year, he briefly tried to figure that out, but with only seeing Sirius in his dog form after years of bondage inside the halls of Azkaban, he could not make out his godfather's breed. It looked similar to a much larger, black version of a mountain dog, perhaps a Great Pyreenees, but he doubted one could ever get as large as Sirius was in dog form.

As such, that led him to believe that Sirius was a mutt, with no other dog on earth having the exact same traits that Sirius had, as if he had taken a couple of characteristics from a few dogs and combined them into one giant dog that was perfectly suited to fight off a werewolf should the need ever come up. He hoped that he would get a look at Sirius as a dog in his prime, when he was healthy and happy, maybe then he would be able to discern the breed of dog. Additionally, he couldn't help but it funny that, if Sirius was indeed a mutt, it would run against Sirius' purebloodedness, which would further catch the ire of his parents. After all, a pureblooded wizard who disagreed with blood supremacy becoming a mutt while in dog form was poetic justice at its finest.

Shaking his head with a smile, he looked down at the map once more and noticed that the dots had disappeared, presumably going through the passage that led to the Shrieking Shack. He gave one last gaze over the grounds of Hogwarts, wondering what his father and his group of friends would be doing later that night, before clearing the map and jumping off of the windowsill. With a yawn, he fell into his bed and closed the curtains around him, intending on getting a good night's sleep. As his head rested against the pillow, he looked up at the top of his bed, his mind drifting off to the conversation that he had with Sirius about Bellatrix the day before until he fell asleep, his dreams littered with the black haired teenager that had captured his heart, the witch that would have to make a decision about her life soon.

A/N: To the anonymous Spanish reviewer that asked about Rabastan, unfortunately he will not be playing a part in this story. While I enjoyed writing him in Power of the Past, and I do like what I did with him there with his love for Despereaux, to bring a similar storyline for him into this story would be too repetitive, I feel. Similarly to Grindelwald, who will not be in the story either, as of right now and probably forever. That also goes for the older Rosier (Evan's father and Bellatrix's uncle), who will be a Death Eater through and through, unlike in Power of the Past, where he was a spy. I haven't made up my mind yet about Regulus, however.

A/N: Funnily enough, Wednesday, January 5, 1977 was actually a full moon in real life.


	30. Two People, One Being

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I'm sorry about the delay, but I had to cut out a lot of subplots to this story because I realized I just had way too much story to actually tell. Hopefully, this will allow me to tighten up the writing and release the chapters at a much quicker pace.

S/N 2: This chapter is just a set up for the next chapter, which will forever change the nature of the story. After the next chapter, the story is going to move forward at breakneck speed, so be prepared for that.

Chapter 30: Two People, One Being

Weeks passed and eventually Valentine's Day came and went, with both Harry and Bellatrix enjoying their day inside the castle. Their relationship had developed to the point that Harry was nearing the confidence to talk about their future, whether or not she would choose him or choose another destiny, knowing full well that if she did choose him, she would not be able to go down the Death Eater path—the path that led to the craving of power and destruction. That was something he could not, would not do, joining with her in her pursuit of her darker ideals in an effort to propagate her blood supremacy misunderstandings. But still, he knew they weren't quite there yet, in a few weeks perhaps, but not now, as she still was unready to make the decision on her own without him going to her and asking.

"Sorry I'm late," Harry whispered one day in late February as he and Bellatrix met in the Room of Requirement to study. Bellatrix looked at him with a blank expression, arching an eyebrow for him to go on and explain himself. "I got caught up with Bertram and a bunch of Ravenclaws."

"Yeah, yeah," Bellatrix replied quietly, turning her attention back to the tome opened on the seat next to her. They quietly read their books for nearly ten minutes, before Bellatrix looked up at Harry with a small smile, a mischievous air about her. "Can I try something on you?" Bellatrix asked, hoping he'd be amenable to helping her out with something.

"Sure, what?" Harry nodded as he turned the page of the book that was nestled in his lap. He was reading about wizards of the Norman Invasion, hoping to find a lead on where he could learn more about the Peverell brothers, and by proxy the Deathly Hallows, having recently learned that the Peverell name may have come over with William the Conqueror. It had become his goal to find out who the Peverells were, knowing that they would be the key to finding out more about the Deathly Hallows and therefore further understanding the plan that Dumbledore outlaid for him to undertake in destroying Voldemort in his own time.

"Look at me straight in the eyes," Bellatrix ordered, bringing her legs up onto the couch and sitting cross-legged as she looked over to Harry. Harry turned his body towards her, and raised an eyebrow as he stared directly into her eyes, willingly allowing her to do as she pleased. "Don't move," Bellatrix whispered, entrancing herself in his green and blue eyes, trying to delve deeper and further into them than she had ever done before.

"Okay," Harry replied easily, having a sinking feeling about what she was doing. He felt a prick in his head, and images began to flood into his mind, memories of Bellatrix and Harry working on occlumency together, of them celebrating Christmas, of them watching the quidditch match. Immediately and instinctively, Harry thought about the memory of Hermione lecturing him and forced Bellatrix from his mind, throwing her out with a powerful push, protecting his thoughts and memories from the intrusion. "What did you do that for?"

"I was bored," Bellatrix shrugged, though Harry could tell she was lying. He could see that she was trying to hone her skills for the sole reason to get better, a trait that both attracted and frightened Harry a bit. "Can I do it again?"

"When did you learn to do this?" Harry said, still staring at Bellatrix, allowing her to intrude upon his mind wandlessly and nonverbally once more, knowing that it was good practice for him, as well. While he didn't want her to know all of his memories, he was okay in her seeing most them, knowing that she wouldn't use them against him; plus, he reasoned, since she knew more about him than anyone else in the world, she probably already knew the stories behind the memories, making knowledge of them relatively worthless.

"I've been trying it on you for a while," Bellatrix grinned, as images of Harry's memories of her came flooding into her mind, as if she was reading a book, seeing the world through his eyes. As she delved deeper and deeper into his mind, a new memory suddenly came into her vision: she was in a place, a shabby, dirty room, with posters of the Chudley Cannons hanging on the wall. Then, as quickly as they came, the memories stopped, and she was back in her own mind once again.

"You're too obvious," Harry muttered, looking back down at the book in his lap, returning to his work. "I can feel you enter my mind right away." He explained softly, hoping that she would be able to use that to better her technique.

"Can I try again?" Bellatrix questioned excitedly, wanting to better herself even more. Now that she knew what to work on, what she needed to learn, she was anxious to start working on it as soon as possible.

"Can you try intruding into my privacy again?" Harry asked rhetorically, looking up from his book as a pensive expression took form on his face, as if he was pondering some great question that plagued the world. "No, I think I'm good for tonight. And every night hereafter, while we're at it."

"You're no fun," Bellatrix cursed, grabbing her book and getting back to her Transfiguration work. They each silently read for another twenty minutes or so before leaving for dinner, both a bit hungry from the long day of schoolwork.

Another week passed, and as it neared March, Easter exams loomed only a few weeks away. As such, Harry found himself in the library, finishing up a Charms assignment that had been given to him during his last class. He managed to complete the assignment, three pieces of parchment detailing a seventh year charm that Harry wished to use as his final practical test, a spell that he would have to perform in front of Professor Flitwick and other wizards and witches sent from the Ministry, after only two hours, allowing him the use of the rest of his time to go over the final touches of it. Soon later, with a contented sigh, happy to be done, Harry reached over to another book that was on the desk that he was positioned at, knowing that he had another assignment to work on, this one of a more personal nature.

"You spend so much time in the library, how come your grades aren't better?" A voice said from above Harry, as he stared down at a book that was opened in front of him.

Harry let out a laugh, looking up at the black-haired girl that loomed above him. "I'm not really studying when I'm in the library. Not always, I mean." Harry said, gesturing to his new book, which was about Beedle the Bard's stories, hoping it would shed light on the Peverell brothers. "At least not for school, that is."

"Well, you should be studying for school. You're terrible in theory; you're like the opposite of Milton Curd." Bellatrix Black lectured, taking a seat across from him without even asking if it was taken. They were at a table behind a bookshelf, allowing them some privacy from prying eyes—though since it was late at night, there weren't many people in the library as it was. "Milton Curd is intelligent in the classroom, knows a lot about spells and magical history, but he is absolutely useless with a wand, no wonder you two are friends. For Merlin's sake, Otto Bagman won the Hufflepuff dueling tournament last year." Bellatrix scoffed, almost disgusted by the idea of Otto Bagman being good at anything, let alone magic. "Otto Bagman." She finished, stressing each word slowly, hoping to convey what she meant to Harry.

Harry raised an eyebrow, smiling at the mention of his relatively magically untalented friend. "I'm better with a wand than you are, so if my grades are terrible, what does that say about you?" Harry questioned playfully, wondering how she would respond.

"I could beat you in a duel," Bellatrix said in a matter of fact tone, as if it was preposterous to suggest otherwise. "And I think a Slytherin is going to win the dueling tournament this year." She said, referencing the tournament that was to take place in a few short weeks.

"You think you can?" Harry asked suggestively, a bit amused by her confidence. While she was a good witch, the best in the class, he firmly believed that he would win in a duel should they ever fight for real, no matter the magic that she had at her disposal.

"Yes," Bellatrix nodded affirmatively, not thinking twice about it. "You may have learned to keep quiet for most spells, but I know for a fact that I can get into your mind, and without keeping me out of your mind, using nonverbal spells is all but useless. If you don't keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, you have no chance of beating someone like me in a duel."

"Aren't you the confident one," Harry murmured with a grin, allowing Bellatrix to believe what she wanted to believe—he knew if it came down to it, he'd probably let her win, but that wasn't the point.

"All I'm saying is that you're not very Ravenclaw-ish." Bellatrix joked with a smile, having grown to agree with the Sorting Hat's original assessment of Harry belonging in the Gryffindor house. It was the reason why he annoyed her so much, that Gryffindor quality that he had about him, one which went against her Slytherin nature.

"Don't be jealous that you're not in the best house. Well, I was a Gryffindor too, so I guess it comes down to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor being the best." Harry whispered, furrowing his brows in thought, trying to decide which one he liked more. "It's a tough choice; while I love Gryffindor, I do substantially enjoy being a Ravenclaw."

"Oh, please, Slytherin is better in every single way." Bellatrix alleged with a smirk, understanding the true character of Slytherin and how the house created very skilled wizards and witches. "It's the best, actually. Very easily, too, might I add."

"Well, not many famous wizards come from Slytherin," Harry replied, then, adding, "Famous for doing good things, I mean." Harry corrected himself, realizing his mistake—Voldemort was a member of the Slytherin house and he was very famous, just famous for all the wrong reasons. "So clearly it's not the best."

"Oh yeah, who is the most famous wizard or witch from Ravenclaw? Other than Ravenclaw herself, that is," Bellatrix questioned with a blank look on her face, waiting for Harry to realize that no one came from Ravenclaw.

"Ah, the woman who invented Floo Powder, I think?" Harry answered, not really knowing anyone of great import—after all, he had only been in the house for two years, and he was a little preoccupied during that time, what with traveling back in time and all. "Oh, oh, I know, Ollivander, Garrick Ollivander, yeah, he was in Ravenclaw, too."

Bellatrix laughed at Harry's names, amused by his inability to actually name someone famous. "Well, Merlin was in Slytherin," Bellatrix said once she finished laughing, expecting Harry to be surprised by that revelation just as so many others were.

"You're lying," Harry retorted, disbelieving of Merlin ever attending Hogwarts, let alone actually being in Slytherin. He had never heard of that before, which made its veracity dubious to him.

"Whatever you want to believe," Bellatrix laughed, not expounding on it any further, instead allowing Harry to think what he wanted. "You'll be made the fool, though."

"I really don't believe you," Harry whispered, though his resolve wasn't as strong as it was before. Then, grabbing his bag, throwing his book into it and rising to his feet, he gestured for her to follow him, having to find another book to further his studies. They walked into the back of the shelves, even more hidden from view than they were before, and Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak, intending on using it to go into the restricted section. "Want to come?" He asked with a smile, as he threw the cloak over the both of them, preventing them from being seen. Being a little too tall for it, they both had to scrunch down in order to be completely covered, but like always, it provided lasting protection from view.

"So I've always wanted to know, but where did you get your invisibility cloak from, the headmaster?" Bellatrix inquired in a whisper, just as Harry popped out his wand, said a spell and opened the gate to the restricted section. They quickly rushed into the section, before closing the gate behind them, as if they had never entered in the first place. "They're really rare and awfully expensive. I've never seen one myself before you started using yours to sneak out and steal food, except in texts."

Harry shifted his eyes over the various shelves, searching for anything that would help him with his Peverell quest. "No, it was actually my father's cloak, he used it in Hogwarts and I got it when I first came to Hogwarts when I was 11. I brought it back with me when I came back in time." He replied quietly, moving onto the next shelf, having not seen anything of note.

"Your father used it in Hogwarts? You mean, when he went to Hogwarts, like right now?" Bellatrix asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to figure out the timeline. If Harry had brought it back from his own time in the 1990s, and his father used it during the 1970s, then that would mean the cloak was at least twenty years old, if not older than that. "And it's still good?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry questioned confusedly, wondering why she would ask such a question. He had kept it in relatively good condition, always treating it with care, so to him it really wasn't any great wonder that it was still as good as the day he received it.

"Because I've heard that invisibility cloaks lose their effectiveness after a while so I'm surprised it still works." Bellatrix answered with a shrug, furrowing her brows in thought as she tried to recall what happened to a cloak as it aged. "You know, the cloak loses its bedazzlement or disillusionment if it's made from a normal cloak or the demiguise hair becomes opaque if the cloak is woven from a demiguise pelt or it becomes torn and ripped and naturally wears."

"It does?" Harry asked, gripping a piece of his cloak and giving it a look. It felt as soft and smooth as silk in his hands, as if it was straight from the maker, seemingly having not aged a day.

"This is nearly perfect," Bellatrix said, grabbing the cloak from his hand and staring at it interestedly. Her eyes gazed about the cloak as it hovered over her, and immediately she noticed how there were no rips, holes, or tears, and just as Harry had noticed seconds before, it still felt like silk to the touch, a rarity in a cloak as old as Harry said his was.

"That's right, I remember Moody mentioning one of his cloaks being better than the other, implying that some cloaks do wear," Harry muttered, as another thought crept into his mind, an experience that harkened back to the beginning of the year, the night that he and Bellatrix first kissed. "Are invisibility cloaks un-summonable? I mean, does the summoning charm usually work on a cloak?"

"I don't know, probably. Most likely, yes." Bellatrix replied with another shrug, not really seeing why it wouldn't. "An anti-summoning charm is very, very, very difficult to perform because technically it's a ward, not a charm, and wards are the hardest thing to do in the field of charms. Plus, with the amorphous nature of the cloak, I'd imagine many wouldn't waste their time because of its difficulty."

"My cloak wasn't able to be summoned," Harry whispered more to himself than to Bellatrix, as he remembered Sirius unable to summon it all those months ago at the start of term. He had hidden behind a suit of armor in order to evade his father and his friends seeing him, and he was almost caught by Sirius performing the Summoning Charm on the cloak, but fortunately enough, his cloak had been unable to be summoned for some reason unbeknownst to Harry.

"That's unusual," Bellatrix muttered nonchalantly, wrapping her arm around Harry's to get in tighter to him. Just then, they heard the gate at the front of the restricted section swing open, and their eyes jetted over to the spot, where they both saw the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Regula Moonshine, enter the section. Their breaths hitched in their throat, surprised by her appearance as it was late at night, and they went silent for a moment, wondering if she was there to catch them. Without incident, Moonshine began walking up and down the shelves, seemingly searching for a tome in the section labeled dark curses and jinxes, before finding what she sought on the bottom of the third row and walking back out.

"We should hurry," Harry murmured, as he began to move his eyes over the books more and more quickly. Up and down the aisles they walked, as briskly and quietly as they could, all the while looking for a specific tome that Harry had seen mentioned in the previous book that he had been reading. It was a book about heirlooms of the middle ages and was said to tell the story of various familiar totems that had been used to show lineage from many ancient and powerful families, with all of them seemingly very valuable. The reason for it being in the restricted section was due to it incorporating many dark objects that had been used by several dark families, each possessing dangerous and uncharted magic. As such, the overprotective headmaster that was in office when the book first came out immediately put it in the restricted area, not wanting any of his students to go headlong into searching for them and endangering themselves as a result. It was needless protection, Harry knew, since there were even more dangerous books in the unrestricted sections, some that even quoted the book that was in the restricted section itself—it simply had yet to be taken off the restricted list by any headmaster since.

As they neared the center of the rows, Harry noticed a slew of dusty books that needed to be wiped off in order to see their titles. Quickly, he reached out and swiped his hand against the bindings, allowing him to see just a sliver of their titles, which would hopefully be enough to decipher what they were. Seeing the one that interested him, he grabbed it and placed it underneath his cloak, hiding it from view before taking Bellatrix's hand and walking out of the section. Once they were out, he threw the cloak off of both of them and slowly ran his wand over the book, intending to take off whatever charms may have been placed on it that would alert that it's been carried out of the library. Then, having finished, he placed his cloak and the book back into his backpack, and turned and looked at Bellatrix with a curious expression.

"Whatever happened to that book that I asked you to get for me a few weeks ago?" Harry asked, wondering whatever happened to that. "You remember the book with the Peverells in it, the one that you said you would get for me?"

"Oh," Bellatrix whispered, arching an eyebrow, thinking back to when she checked on the book. "When I went back, it was gone. It was checked out when I went to get it, and then I just forgot about it."

Harry nodded next to her, and then questioned, "Checked out by whom?"

"I didn't look, I'm sorry," Bellatrix replied, biting her lip, hoping he wouldn't be too disappointed. It had been a while ago after all, and since she had forgotten about it, she presumed he had, as well.

"Its fine, we'll do it right now." Harry smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. It wasn't the end of the world that she didn't check, and he didn't want her to think that he was the least bit mad about it. "Do you remember the title?"

"Ah," Bellatrix stopped, looking towards the floor in an effort to remember. _What was it_, she thought to herself, _Dark Treasures or something like that_. "Give me a second here."

"Ugh," Harry laughed, playfully rolling his eyes at her. "What good are you?" He mocked in faux disappointment, liking the fact that he was able to tease her for once.

Bellatrix slapped his arm, as she continued to try and remember what the book's name was. "Oh, oh, I know," Bellatrix exclaimed, her eyes moving up to Harry with a victorious smile on her pretty face. "It was 'Wizards of the Middle Ages and their Dark Treasures' by Edsel Prince."

"What were you reading that for?" Harry asked, as he headed towards the desk at the front of the library, intending on finding out who had it. _Is Prince the only person who writes about these sorts of things? _Harry questioned to himself, recognizing that name from the numerous books that were in his trunk, having been collected from Dumbledore and the library in number 12 Grimmauld Place. _Wait,_ Harry paused in an effort to correct himself,_ that was Athelstan Prince, not Edsel. Is there a connection there, perhaps father and son? Or perhaps something different? _

"I wanted to read about charmed objects," Bellatrix shrugged innocently, having perused the book in order to learn about the dark treasures portion of it, presuming that it would have powerful, priceless objects that she would one day be able to procure.

"Hi," Harry said politely, coming up to the librarian, Irma Pince. She was different than how she would act in post in the future, much nicer and less possessive of the books in the library, but even still, he had never interacted with her very much due to his past experiences with her. "Do you happen to know who checked out 'Wizards of the Middles Ages and their Dark Treasures' by Edsel Prince?"

"Let's see here," The librarian whispered to herself, flicking her wand to a box on the desk. A stiff piece of parchment levitated out of the box and darted to her hands, which had a list of names written down on it. "Ah, yes, right here, it says 'Lovegood, Xenophilius'."

"Xeno took it out?" Harry whispered, flicking his gaze over to Bellatrix, who looked blankly back at him. He furrowed his brow in thought, inwardly wondering why Xenophilius would take out such a book as it did not seem the kind of thing that would interest him.

"It seems so," The librarian replied, before placing the card back in the box and moving onto the next student that had just come up behind Harry.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking a few steps away, getting ready to leave the library. "I'll have to talk to him about it sometime."

"He's had it out for quite a while," Bellatrix whispered in response, hoping that would help Harry in some way.

Filing that information away, Harry and Bellatrix departed for the night, and the next day found Harry walking into Dumbledore's office, intent on learning as much as he could from the older wizard. Over the course of their discussions, he had learned about magic, about Voldemort, and about himself, as well as ancillary things that he would have never known if it wasn't for the headmaster. He enjoyed his time with the headmaster, not only because he was learning from Dumbledore, but because he was learning about Dumbledore, too, which was something that was very special in his mind. He was grateful for it since he knew that it wasn't everyday that the greatest wizard of the age took time out of his schedule to converse with a teenaged wizard.

"Professor, I have a question, but I'm not sure you'll know the answer. Maybe you will, I have no idea." Harry said slowly, truly not knowing whether Dumbledore knew how to answer it or not—after all, it wasn't commonly known, as far as he understood.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued by the prospect of a difficult question. Very rarely was there a question about magic that he could not answer, having spent countless of days and nights pouring over tomes of great magic and being particularly skillful in a wide assortment of aspects of magic.

"Was Merlin really in Slytherin?" Harry asked curiously, still a bit hung-up by the revelation that Bellatrix had told him just a day prior.

Dumbledore furrowed his brows, having not expected that kind of question. He expected something about Voldemort, time travel, maybe even Harry's parents, but not a question as trivial as a student's house in Hogwarts. Sure, Merlin was one of the greatest wizards to ever live, in a manner of speaking at least, but still, the question was about his house, not his deeds as a wizard. "Well," Dumbledore started, looking over to Harry, figuring out the easiest way to answer it—it wasn't a simple question to answer. "Yes and no."

"What?" Harry replied loudly, surprised at the revelation, having truly not expected it. _I'm never going to hear the end of this from Bellatrix_, Harry thought to himself, shaking his head in dissatisfaction.

"The Merlin that was in Slytherin is not the same one from muggle myth, of whom I'm sure you are conjuring images in your mind. The Merlin from myth was known as Myrddin and he was a druidic seer, potion maker, magizoologist and soothsayer to the people, while the one in Hogwarts was the Prince of the Enchanters, who just happened to be named Merlin—Merlin Ambrose, to be exact, who was named after the man of legend and worked with charms, creating dozens of charm spells that we still use to this day. So yes, Merlin was in Slytherin, but not that Merlin, as he had died nearly a half of a millennium prior to the founding of Hogwarts. However, over time, the two entirely distinct people have been amalgamated and conflated into one individual, and there you go. Individually, they were both very powerful wizards, great in their own right and two of the most powerful wizards ever, but together they have created a wizard whose shadow looms above everyone else, no matter how incredible an individual's feats are."

"Interesting," Harry whispered, as a rueful smile took its place on his face. The Merlin he had pictured in his mind, the wild man that helped King Arthur, had never attended Hogwarts, but instead the wizard who did attend Hogwarts was the one that had done most of the magical deeds attributed to the name Merlin. "So we were both right…in a way, at least."

Dumbledore flicked his eyes over to the window, before turning his attention back to Harry, a pensive expression on his face all the while. "Why do you ask?" He questioned, wondering what had brought the inquiry.

"A friend told me that Merlin was in Slytherin and I didn't believe her," Harry answered with a shrug, bemused to find out that he was incorrect and Bellatrix really was telling the truth.

"I see, I see," Dumbledore nodded understandingly, not at all surprised that someone wouldn't believe that Merlin was actually in Slytherin, given the recent history of the house. Sure, he was disappointed that Harry didn't see the positive aspects of the Slytherin house and how Merlin could be part of those positives, but he wasn't surprised by it. "Merlin, the Hogwarts one, certainly did live an interesting life, that's for sure."

"How so?" Harry asked interestedly, curious as to what the older wizard meant by that. Obviously, the Merlin story was well known, even in the muggle stories, but he had not previously known about the dual personage of Merlin, which left the question of who did what intriguing to Harry.

"Well, he played a part in both the break up of the Hogwarts four and the invasion of England," Dumbledore replied, looking over to Harry, his blue eyes twinkling as the story rushed into the front of his mind.

"Go on," Harry prodded, even more curious now by the potential story. Very rarely did he ever hear about the Hogwarts four, let alone the events that led up to their break with Slytherin, a topic of conversation that greatly interested him.

"Honestly, I don't know all of the details because they're shrouded in mystery, but Merlin attended Hogwarts before Slytherin left, and Slytherin had taken to personally teaching him magic during his years at the school," Dumbledore started, furrowing his brows in thought, hoping to remember the various anecdotes that the headmaster portraits had told him over the years. "After graduating from Hogwarts, Merlin went on to help muggles with his magic, hence the Order of Merlin—this was a time before the statute of secrecy, of course. Well, one muggle that he helped happened to have been attacked by a warlord, who then waged a war against wizards and witches alike in outrage of Merlin's intrusion, slaughtering entire families of magical people."

"It was much worse than that," A voice from above said, speaking up for the first time in nearly a century. Every portrait looked up above them, as Dumbledore and Harry brought their gazes upwards to see who it was that was talking, noticing that the portrait was just a few feet from the ceiling. "That warlord killed a few of Slytherin's own students."

Harry and Dumbledore watched as the wizard in the portrait rose from his seat and slowly walked through every portrait below him, before entering Phineas Nigellus Black's empty portrait, which was situated nearly right next to Dumbledore's desk, to be closer to the conversation. "I am Canute Kneen, the seventh Hogwarts headmaster, successor to Beowa Viridios and predecessor toAylmar Bagshot." The portrait stated, introducing himself to Harry, gently bowing his head in hello, which was returned politely by the younger wizard.

"This is certainly a surprise," Dumbledore said, looking between Harry and the old headmaster, a strange expression on his face, as if he was thrilled to be speaking to the ancient wizard. "We've never truly spoken before."

"No," The portrait shook his head in the negative, agreeing with what Dumbledore had said. "After a hundred or so years of being up on the wall, you tend to not know anything that people are talking about so you stay quiet. My immediate predecessor hasn't spoken since the dragon pox outbreak of 1764. Most of my contemporaries or close successors have all disappeared from their own portraits, which is never a good sign."

"And now you have something to say?" Harry asked quizzically, barely understanding how immensely old the man in the portrait was. By his memory, the oldest person or portrait he had ever spoken to was Sir Cadogan, who had died in the early twelfth century, while the Gryffindor ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, was just younger, having died a century or so after Cadogan.

"Oh yes," He nodded affirmatively, having perked up when he heard the mention of Merlin. "The original me, since I am but a copy of Canute Kneen, a two dimensional representation of him, was a student, a tender first year, when it happened, the schism between the founders that is. I barely remember, but from what I can recall, word reached Hogwarts of Merlin's deeds and the warlord's actions, both the greatness of Merlin and the foulness of the warlord. Upon hearing about it, Slytherin was enraged beyond measure; to this day I have not seen someone as angry as Slytherin was that day. He decreed that Hogwarts would not accept anymore muggleborns, because muggles were so treacherous and destructive that even the magical progeny of them had blood muddied with deceit and violence, with their parents' unworthiness, coining a new insult that the Slytherin house then used afterwards as a show of solidarity: mudblood.

"The other founders, of course, would not have that, and seeing that there was no speaking him down, Gryffindor pulled his wand out and stood against him, joined by the other two founders behind him. This forever damaged the relationship between the two best friends, and afterwards, Slytherin left and was never seen by the founders again, his anger and hatred for them and their ideals unfortunately overpowering his deep respect for their abilities. The three others then started teaching muggle studies at Hogwarts, which allowed witches and wizards to understand muggles better in the hopes that it would stymie any growing discontent from pureblood magic folk. Five years later, the founders were further torn apart after Madam Ravenclaw herself died due to a broken heart, which as legend has it, was from her daughter's actions, though I know of no such action from Helena that would cause that."

"That word stems from the fallout between Gryffindor and Slytherin?" Harry asked in astonishment, unable and unwilling to say mudblood out loud. He thought the term mudblood was relatively recent; he had never fathomed that its bloody history went back nearly a thousand years.

Canute nodded in agreement slowly, silently answering Harry's question. "Incidentally, that same warlord also led to the founding of Hogsmeade as he forced Hengist out from his home in Woodcroft years after the man had graduated from Hogwarts." Canute added with a sigh, recalling the destruction that the warlord levied onto the magical community. It was devastating at the time, a far cry from the peace that many wanted between muggles and magical folk.

"So you knew Merlin then?" Harry questioned, still amazed that he was speaking to a contemporary of the great wizard. How much history did this man know? How many dark lords, goblin uprisings, powerful wizards and witches did this guy witness or hear about throughout his many years as a portrait? How many stories about the most powerful of wizards and witches could this man tell?

"No, I never met him, but I knew of his deeds more than many," Canute said, shifting his gaze back over to Dumbledore. "On a list of the ten most brilliant students Hogwarts has ever seen, the Merlin about whom you speak would surely be near the top, if not at the very top, along with those Peverell brothers, Selia Crouch, Tom Riddle, and you, of course, Albus."

Harry's ears perked at the mention of the Peverell name, but just as Harry was about to question the ancient headmaster about the Peverell brothers, he was interrupted by a shriek of displeasure. "What are you doing here!?" A voice suddenly erupted, one which Harry immediately recognized as Phineas Nigellus Black's, the forefather of the current Black line. "Get out, get out, I say!" The ex-headmaster screamed, coming into his portrait and finding the older headmaster occupying it.

"He was telling a story, Phineas," Another headmaster portrait said, scolding Black for yelling and not showing the much older headmaster the respect that he deserved. Harry traced his eyes to the voice, and saw that it was a headmaster he knew as Dexter Fortescue, the same one that had criticized Phineas' refusal to warn Sirius that Harry was going to Grimmauld Place after the attack on Mr. Weasley during his fifth year. "Let him be."

"Get out!" Phineas said once more, this time even louder than before. It was plain to see how outraged he was by the intrusion into his personal space, as if he felt the very nature of the idea that a lesser wizard was in his portrait repulsing.

"You can come into my portrait," Armando Dippet said nicely, allowing access to his portrait to continue the story. He himself was fairly interested in hearing the rest of what the old headmaster had to say, having never once spoken to the headmaster during his own time in office.

"Its okay, Armando, I was finished anyway." Canute said, almost dejectedly, as he walked back up to his own portrait, while all of the other headmasters hissed at Phineas in disapproval. They all knew that the portraits' job was to help the current headmaster, not arrogantly sneer at the rest of the portraits as Phineas had been known to do.

"What about Merlin, whatever happened to him?" Harry said, keeping his eyes on Phineas, who was threateningly watching Kneen enter his own portrait before sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes, not allowing the hisses coming his way to affect him.

"We shall pick up there next time," Dumbledore whispered as he glanced down at his pocket watch, knowing that he had business to attend to in a short few minutes. There was an Order meeting, one that he hoped would go over some new information about the Death Eaters' plans in an effort to prevent their plans from coming to fruition.

"Okay," Harry agreed, realizing that he had spent nearly an hour in the headmaster's office. "I'll see you next week, professor."

"Bye Harry," Dumbledore waved, rising from his seat and preparing himself for the Order meeting that was to take place at the turn of the hour, which was a few short minutes away. Quickly, he silently summoned a few pieces of parchment with a wave of his hand and then called for Fawkes, who teleported them both out of the office in a flash of bright orange flames.

A few days later, Harry made his way to the library once again, where he was supposed to be meeting Bellatrix. He arrived about five minutes before the time they had agreed, and took a seat on one of the tables hidden in the back, blocked from view by the bookshelves, near the gate that served as the entrance into the restricted section. He took out the book he had procured from the section just a week prior, and began perusing its contents, having been too busy before then to give it a read. Silently, he flipped through the pages, searching for any mention of the Deathly Hallows or the Peverell brothers, wanting to learn how the brothers created the powerful objects.

Before long, the minutes passed, and after waiting a half an hour or so after the time they were supposed to meet, Harry started wondering where Bellatrix was. His gaze moved to the entrance to the alcove that the table was in, and he stared at it for a few minutes, as if to will Bellatrix to appear. Sure enough, she came into view, her black hair long and straight, and her backpack slung over her shoulder. "Sorry I'm late," She said, finally arriving as she threw her bag down onto the table and took the seat across from Harry.

"It's fine," Harry replied, looking up from his book and giving her a nod, trying to appear as if he wasn't curious as to where she was. He raised an eyebrow up at her, but she did not elaborate any further, seemingly keeping what held her a secret for the time being. Furrowing his brows, Harry turned his attention back to his books, all the while wondering what she was hiding from him.

Distractedly, Harry continued with his work for another half an hour, his mind occasionally drifting off to what Bellatrix was keeping from him, until the pair broke for lunch. Bellatrix went her separate ways with her Slytherin friends, while Harry met up with his Ravenclaw group, taking a seat at the far end of the house table. His gaze moved over to Bellatrix across the hall, who was quietly discussing something with Rabastan Lestrange and another boy that Harry couldn't name. Without touching any of the food that was in front of them, the three of them got up from the table and walked out of the hall, followed closely by Evan Rosier, who was rushing to catch up to them.

Shaking his head, he turned his attention away from the door and grabbed himself a half of a sandwich, before pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice and biting into the sandwich as he enjoyed the conversation around him. Then, taking the seat across from him, Xenophilius arrived, reminding Harry to question the boy about the book. "Xeno, you think we can talk in private later tonight?" Harry questioned, putting his sandwich down on the plate in front of him and taking a sip of his juice.

"Sure," Xenophilius nodded, curiously wondering what Harry had to talk to him about. He watched as Harry began talking with Bertram, which prevented him from questioning the wizard, so instead he made himself a plate of food and began eating.

Just then, owls from above swooped down over the house tables, about a half of a dozen, releasing the envelopes clasped in their claws, before flying upwards once more and exiting the the Great Hall. Harry looked down at the envelope that sat in front of him, wondering what it was. He looked over to the side and saw that Xenophilius and Greta too had received one, along with a Slytherin Harry did not know, a Hufflepuff that he only knew as the kid in his Charms class, and finally, Frank Longbottom. Quickly, he scooped up the envelope and tore it open, too curious about what it was to wait until he left the hall.

After taking out the pieces of parchment, Harry's eyes quickly moved down the page, a small smile creeping onto his face as he read before brimming into a large grin. "His wedding is in a month?" He heard Greta exclaim in surprise, and a muffled response from Xenophilius, as he too read his invitation. It was true: Harry's best friend Edgar Bones was to be married the week after Easter during the first days of April.

In all of the commotion and excitement over Edgar's wedding invitation, Harry did not notice the tall, handsome boy with black hair excuse himself from the Gryffindor table immediately after Bellatrix and the other Slytherins left the hall. Quietly, he followed them through the halls of Hogwarts, making sure not to be seen, hoping to figure out what it was they were doing. He stayed a good distance away from them as they moved up the stairs, seemingly headed for the abandoned wing on the third floor. Just as he rounded a corner they had turned, he bumped into someone he had hoped not to see: Severus Snape.

"Expelliarmus," Snape said quickly, being quicker on the draw than Sirius and knocking the wizard's wand out of his hand. Snape flashed his wand, and before Sirius could grab his wand off the floor to defend against the attack, he found himself hanging upside down with his ankles being held in the air.

_I should have used the map_, Sirius thought to as he looked down at Snape and then to his wand on the floor, disgusted in himself for falling prey to his most detested rival. While he could have used the map to follow Bellatrix's trail, he instead wanted to see what she was doing with his own eyes, wanting to be able to tell Harry that he saw Bellatrix doing her nefarious schemes in person. He didn't know what it was that she was up to, but he had seen her gallivanting around with a small group of Slytherins for the past few weeks, going off on their own, which served as the impetus for his exploration that day. Unfortunately, however, he forgot that where one Snake was, there tended to be an entire brood of them, as well, which was the reason why he found himself in the predicament he was in.

"What should I do with you now that I have you, Black?" Snape smirked, as he moved closer and closer to the beaten wizard, an evil look in his eyes as he thought of all the ways to torment the wizard. "What should I do with you indeed…?"

A/N: Yes, that Merlin thing was my way to fix the blunder of chronology in the Pottermore stuff. Merlin being alive in the time frame to attend Hogwarts doesn't really make sense to me so I tried to fix it. The Merlin connection will be explored more in the next few chapters. Like I said above in the S/N 2, this was just a set up chapter and the nature of the story changes after the next chapter.

A/N: To the anonymous reviewer who has been reviewing Power of the Past over the last few days, Janus isn't better than Harry. There is a lot more to Janus than just the fact that he's Harry Potter's son, which would be explored in the sequel. Additionally, while Harry has more experience and skill than Janus does, Janus is more talented than Harry was at Janus' age—think of Dumbledore and Grindelwald; Dumbledore was a shade more talented than Grindelwald, but Gellert was still great nonetheless. And finally, it isn't necessarily Janus' wand that the Order needs, it's more along the lines of what he knows, which is what he meant at the end of that chapter.


	31. Choices

Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Like I promised, the tone of the story changes from this chapter onwards and it is going to be moving fast, really fast. All will be explained in the next chapter. While I wish this would come a bit later in the story, I needed the Easter break for the plot of the coming chapters. You may want to read chapter 27, "Passing the Time and the Marauder's Map", before reading this one.

S/N 2: This chapter was perfectly timed, apparently, what with learning about the Secret Keeper and the Fidelius Charm from the new chapters of Pottermore recently. I wanted to clear up what JKR said in an interview about the secret after the keeper died and what we saw in the Deathly Hallows. The Merlin connection will continue to be explored in a few more chapters.

Chapter 31: Choices

The weekend arrived, and with it came the house duelling tournaments for the sixth year students. Harry was excited to watch the Ravenclaw tournament, though he was even more excited to see who would come out of Gryffindor's tournament—would it be his father, his mother, or Sirius? While he didn't prefer one over the others, he was intrigued to find out how much skill his mother had with a wand, having only really heard about her potions proficiency from Remus during his third year and never about her ability to duel. Unfortunately, as per the rules, he would only get to see the Gryffindor champion in the final rounds, which wouldn't be for another three weeks after they had returned from Easter break.

The first duel of the tournament was between Greta and a girl with dark brown hair that Harry did not know. Harry had seen her before, but, like many of the younger Ravenclaws, never had the opportunity to learn her name, a problem that he reasoned was because he was in his N.E.W.T years when he first arrived and didn't have as much time to socialize as he did during his first few years in Hogwarts. With apt attention, he watched the duel, hoping that Greta would come out victorious, rooting for her to win all the while. Immediately, the two witches sent a multitude jinxes and hexes at each other back and forth, neither one getting hit, before, with a blast of wind, Greta was sent flying off of the platform, ending the duel relatively quickly.

"I guess I should stick to writing and food," Greta shrugged happily as she came over to Harry and Xenophilius once she had gotten back to her feet, not at all upset by losing her match. She wasn't a fighter, nor was she particularly skilful with a wand—she was a cook, someone who dreamed of feeding people and writing about it, not a warlock in training. While she was talented in food-related charms, gifted with them some would even say, many of the other charms unfortunately escaped her capabilities, with duelling charms being no different, and because of that she had absolutely no skill with martial magic in the least bit.

"You did great, don't worry about it," Harry said, hugging Greta with one arm, showing her that he was proud of her. With Greta's loss, Harry only half-heartedly paid attention to the rest of the duels, not really seeing anything that impressed him very much. While the sixth year's magic was great for their age, it was nothing like what he saw last year between Bellatrix and Frank Longbottom, which disappointed him a bit, having expected much more from the smart Ravenclaws. In the end, a female Ravenclaw by the name of Mafalda Hopkirk, whom Harry knew would one day work in the Ministry, won the tournament, moving on to face the champions of the other three houses in the semi-finals.

A few minutes after the conclusion of the duels, all of the Ravenclaws began shuffling out of the Great Hall, but Harry lingered behind for a bit, wanting to talk to his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "Hey professor," Harry said, walking up to Regula Moonshine as she watched all of the students funnelling towards the door, waiting for them to exit before she too left.

The witch looked around at the sound of the voice, before her eyes met with Harry's as he walked towards her. "Harry, how are you?" She smiled at the younger wizard as she resumed gathering her things up to leave.

Harry paused for a second as he looked at her, noticing for the first time in a long while how young she actually was—much, much younger than nearly every other teacher he'd ever had. _She must have been barely a decade out of Hogwarts when she started teaching last year_, he thought to himself, wondering when she had attended Hogwarts herself. Shaking his head, he regained his train of thought, and answered, "I'm great. Just working on school work, my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is really hounding us this year."

"Yeah, I heard she's a real stickler," Regula laughed, playfully shaking her head at Harry's comment. "It's hard to believe that it's already a new tournament, no? I mean, just last year I remember watching you take on Frank Longbottom in the finals as if it was yesterday, but sure enough, it's been a year and you're almost leaving Hogwarts!"

"Time really has flown by, that's for sure," Harry agreed with a nod of his head, still a bit perplexed by how fast the year had gone by so far. After all, because the year had moved along so quickly, he was nearly done with Hogwarts, which was shocking to him, considering he could still remember the fear that he had while crossing the lake in his first year as if it had just happened. "How is this year's tournament looking?"

"Off the record?" She questioned, looking at Harry, who nodded in agreement, not wanting her to think he'd go blabbing to anyone about it. "Not very good," She whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear her, though they were in an empty Great Hall. "I love all of my students, don't misinterpret that, but this year isn't as talented as last year was. Two of the frontrunners in Severus Snape and Sirius Black were suspended from the tournament due to duelling in the hallways a few days ago, which took a big chunk out of the competition. While Gryffindor had the depth to overcome that, what with James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Lily Evans, Slytherin really didn't so their house tournament was pretty lacklustre. And Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw weren't all too entertaining, either." Then, realizing her faux pas, she added with a grin, "Er…no offense meant."

"None taken," Harry smiled, shrugging it off, not thinking anything of it—he had come to that same conclusion not ten minutes prior. "I didn't think Mafalda Hopkirk would be the one to win a duelling competition either, but that's just me." He replied, remembering back to his own time how kind and sweet she sounded in her letters warning him of his misuse of magic during the summer.

"Yeah, it's a shame really because with those two in the fold this tournament could have been one of the best," Moonshine sighed disappointedly, having previously believed that this tournament would be even better than the last. "But alas, they each made their own choices and now they, and we as well, have to live with those choices, unfortunately."

"Yeah," Harry nodded in agreement, a bit frustrated that he wouldn't get to see Snape battle a Gryffindor in the finals, whether it was his father, Sirius, Remus, or perhaps even his mother. "You sound a lot like my granduncle there, what with the choices talk."

"He may have rubbed off on me," Moonshine agreed with a smile, and then, taking a step closer to Harry, she whispered, "Just between us again, the tournament champions are Mulciber, Potter, Smith, and as you already know, Hopkirk."

"Smith?" Harry questioned, knowing there were a few Smiths in Hogwarts since it was a common name around the country. Inwardly, he wondered how his father had come out on top in the Gryffindor tournament: who had he gone up against he was up against in the final round, surely it couldn't have been his mother, could it? After all, knowing what he knew about him, he thought it was likely than his father would allow his mother to win just to try and get her to like him more.

"Matthiah Smith, the Hufflepuff," Moonshine replied, before noticing that all of the students had left and it was just her and Harry in the hall. She grabbed her things and started heading towards the doorway, gesturing for Harry to follow her. "I have to get going to meet with my assistants. It was good talking to you Harry; I'll see you in class this week."

"Bye," Harry waved, watching as she walked up the stairs before disappearing down a hallway, presumably heading towards her office. With a shrug, Harry looked up and down the hall, deciding on where to go, before steering himself towards the kitchens, intending on getting some cookies and a glass of milk. As he rounded the corner that would lead into the hallway where the entrance to the kitchens was located, he did not see the person in front of him and bumped into his Head of House, Pythia Telemus, as a result. "Professor, sorry about that, didn't see you there," Harry apologized with a laugh, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh, it's okay, Harry, no harm done," Telemus smiled, waving his apology off, not thinking anything of it. "I actually wanted to see you."

"Really, what about?" Harry questioned, hoping that he wasn't in trouble or anything. Inwardly, he briefly wondered whether his bumping into the Divination professor was actually an accident or if she had seen it before it happened and had set it up just to speak with him. Remembering how she knew he was from the future without anyone telling her, he didn't put it past her that she had set the interaction up and had made sure she was at that precise spot in the hall right when Harry rounded the corner.

"Just to talk to you about school," Telemus replied easily, knowing that she had yet to speak with Harry about the school year like she had with most of the other seventh years. She made it her mission to ensure that all of her students were on the right course, that they were prepared for their future, outside of simply growing older during their time at Hogwarts.

"Go on," Harry furrowed his brows, prodding her to continue. He found it funny that he had just spoken to Professor Moonshine about the year moving quickly, and here his Head of House was confronting him about the school year for the first time.

"I wanted to know if you have started to prepare for your exams?" She asked, hoping that he didn't forget about them since they were fairly important in the grand scheme of things. "What you receive on your Easter exams will be a good cursor for how much work you need to put into your N.E.W.T. finals. And as you know, your N.E.W.T. scores dictate what choices you'll have in terms of future employment."

"Yeah, I've started," Harry answered with an affirmative nod, having been focused on the exams for the past few days. "I still don't know what I want to do after Hogwarts, but I'm going to try and do my best on my exams."

"Smart boy," Telemus grinned, happy that Harry was cognizant enough to think ahead. "My door is always open, Harry, never forget that. It's open even if you want to talk about things that you perhaps keep secret from the rest of the world."

Harry nodded with a small smile, understanding what she meant by that. "Thank you, professor." He replied with a politely tilt of his head, thankful for her secrecy.

"No problem," Telemus nodded, before giving Harry a wave and walking down the hall away from Harry, presumably heading back to her personal quarters.

With a curious expression on his face, pondering everything that Telemus had said, Harry continued on his way to the kitchens. The elves inside greeted him cheerfully, and as he sat down, he saw Bustle working about, never noticing Harry. The elf seemed happy with the work that he was doing, though Harry knew that he missed his old master Lycoris deeply, recalling the last conversation the pair had had a few weeks prior. Shaking his head, Harry munched on a few chocolate chip cookies and drank a tall glass of milk, before leaving the kitchens and heading back up to his room in the Ravenclaw tower, intent on relaxing the rest of the day away.

When he arrived in his room, he saw that only Bertram and Xenophilius were there, the others presumably in the library, studying for their exams like most of the Ravenclaws were doing. He said hello to them both, before collapsing into his bed for some rest, his stomach filled up with cookies and milk. "Harry, what was that question that you wanted to ask me before we got Edgar's wedding invites?" Xenophilius inquired, walking over to Harry's bed, away from Bertram on the opposite side of the room.

"Oh, that was just about a book that you have out on loan from the library," Harry shrugged, stalling in an effort to think of a way to ask Xenophilius about it without raising too much suspicion—after all, he couldn't just blurt out the Deathly Hallows, could he? "I wanted to see it for a second."

"Which book? I have a few out," Xenophilius asked, wondering which book Harry meant since he had around five of them checked out at the time. Before he had met Harry, and became friends with the boy and in turn, Edgar, he went to the library a great deal, having been ignored or teased by most people in his house, barring a few exceptions, so having a great many of books out on loan wasn't anything new to him. Most of the books were about things no one else was interested in, which only proceeded to further the teasing he received from the others, but he was okay with it, as the books brought him joy and happiness.

"The one by Edsel Prince," Harry replied, still inwardly curious as to why Xenophilius had taken the book out in the first place. After all, they were in most of the same classes together, with the only difference being Xenophilius taking History of Magic, which Harry made the reasonable assumption had been the purpose that Xenophilius had looked for the book in the first place—he had an assignment in that class. "What did you take it out for anyway?"

"To see something," Xenophilius responded nervously, keeping as cryptic as he possibly could. While Harry was willing to go along with many of his beliefs, he wasn't sure if there would be a limit to Harry's friendship before he too started thinking of him as weird.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his friend, waiting for him to continue, though he didn't seem eager to do so. "What's that?" He finally inquired, prodding Xenophilius to expand on what he had said.

Xenophilius shook his head, unwilling to divulge that information, not wanting Harry to view him like the rest of the school did. "You won't believe me if I told you," He said quietly, realizing how strange the truth would sound.

"Try me," Harry answered, hoping to hear Xenophilius out, not wanting his friend to believe that he thought of him as a joke. Xenophilius was eccentric, yes, but his beliefs didn't hurt anyone, and he had a lot of great qualities that outweighed his eccentricity by a large margin, not unlike his future daughter, Luna.

Xenophilius looked down at the floor, thinking it over, before meeting Harry's gaze. "I took it out to see if I could succeed on the quest and find the Deathly Hallows for my own."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Harry gulped in shock, furrowing his brows in confusion, greatly surprised by that revelation. _How does he know about the Deathly Hallows?_ He thought to himself, trying to figure out how Xenophilius was able to learn about the objects when he himself needed Dumbledore's direction to figure them out.

"That's what I thought—I didn't think you'd know about them," Xenophilius sighed, shaking his head, misinterpreting Harry's question. "My father used to tell me about them when I was a child, but I never looked into them until I met with my girlfriend's uncle, who knows more about the history of magic than anyone I've ever known."

"Who is that?" Harry asked, surprised that someone knew more about the history of magic than Xenophilius. While he indeed did have eclectic interests, many of which fell outside the realms of normal thought, Xenophilius was very knowledgeable when it came to details about the history of magic, more so than most wizards and witches in the country, let alone his age.

"Florean Fortescue," Xenophilius answered easily, his eyes flicking down to a piece of parchment that he was holding in his hands. He looked down at his pocket watch, and then gave out a loud sigh, as if he realized he was late for something.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the name, remembering how Florean had helped him during the summer between his second and third year in his history of magic assignments. "I thought he was an expert in just medieval witch burnings?"

"Florean? No," Xenophilius shook his head in the negative, disagreeing with that assessment. "He's an expert in all things medieval when it comes to magic. He's amazing. Speaking of which," Xenophilius said, turning and walking towards the door, seemingly remembering his prior engagement. "I'll be right back."

"Sure," Harry nodded as he watched Xenophilius leave, slightly confused by how he should go about talking with Xenophilius. He was struggling with whether he should talk to Xenophilius about the Deathly Hallows or not, share what they knew, but if he did that, he knew that he may have to divulge his time travelling secret, which was something he wasn't sure he wanted to do just yet. He knew there would be a time that he would tell both Xenophilius and Edgar about his travelling to the past, but he wasn't sure that time was then—he still had to make his choice on that.

"Harry," Bertram's voice cut through the air, drawing Harry from his thoughts. "Want to play some exploding snap?" The boy questioned, earning a smile from Harry, who agreed with a nod of his head and jumped off his bed to gather his cards.

A few days later, Harry was just packing his things up into his bag as his schoolmates exited the Charms classroom. "Have you picked out the charm you want to use on your exam?" He asked to his dorm mate and fellow seventh year Ravenclaw, Gaspard Shingleton.

"I'm actually using my own," Gaspard said slowly, a nervous smile on his face. "I've been working on it for a while now; nearly all year, actually."

"Oh, what is it?" Harry questioned curiously, knowing how strong Gaspard was in Charms—he was the best boy in the year, and was up there with Bellatrix overall.

"A self-stirring charm," Gaspard whispered, bringing his finger up to his mouth to keep Harry quiet on the matter, trusting him to keep his secret. "I'm not finished with it, and I haven't patented it with the Ministry just yet, but I think it could make me a lot of galleons in the future."

Harry blinked, surprised by that revelation, having not expected Gaspard to come up with his charm so early in his life. "I'm sure it will," Harry said, giving a wry grin, knowing full well that it would indeed make Gaspard Shingleton successful and well known, so much so that he would one day be studied in first year History of Magic class by the time Harry was a first year in 1991. "You invented it yourself?"

"Yup, been working on it for a few months now, ever since that day that Derrick made the quidditch team," Gaspard replied with a nod of his head, proud of his accomplishment. The idea for a self-stirring cauldron struck him when he heard Derrick make fun of Bertram for the time when he had not remember to stir the cauldron correctly, which resulted in the potion blowing up in Bertram's face, and from that day forward, he had been working on the charm in secret. "What about you? Have you made your choice yet?"

"I think I'm going to go with the Protean Charm," Harry answered honestly, wanting to see if he could replicate the coins that Hermione had created for Dumbledore's Army during their fifth year. It would take a bit of skill that Harry didn't know if he had, but he knew that the N.E.W.T. exams would challenge him so he didn't want to take it easy on himself in his preparations for them.

"Oh, nice," Gaspard nodded in appreciation, impressed by Harry's selection. The Protean Charm was not a simple charm; it wasn't one that many wizards and witches could do, or even knew about. "That's a difficult spell."

"Let's hope I can do it then," Harry grinned, a bit uneasy by the prospect of actually performing the charm. However, because he knew that it would be a nice way to honor Hermione, he wanted to at least try to do it for her, regardless of his chances of success.

"You'll be fine," Gaspard said with a laugh, before tossing his bag over his shoulder and gesturing towards the door. "Are you coming?"

"Ah, no, I have to talk to Flitwick about something, you go ahead," Harry replied, earning a nod from Gaspard as he headed towards the exit and walked out of the room. Then, as the last of the students drifted out of the classroom, Harry walked up to the front of the class, where Flitwick was still sitting at his desk, seemingly going over some paperwork. "Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, of course," Flitwick squealed as he looked up from his work, happy to talk to Harry about whatever he wanted. "What can I do you for?"

"Well, you mentioned that I could come talk to you about being a dueller when we last spoke about it," Harry started, assuming that Flitwick would still be willing to help him out like he had promised months prior.

"Have you thought about it some more then?" Flitwick straightened up at the Harry's pronouncement, a large smile taking its place on his face. He always appreciated discussing his duelling past; having had so much fun and joy during that time of his life that reliving it brought nearly as much fun to him as it first brought to him.

"Not quite, I had a few questions for you before I do," Harry shook his head, hoping that the small wizard would be able to answer his inquiries. The conversation a few days prior with Pythia Telemus, his Head of House, had stirred up something inside of him, which needed answering while it was at the forefront of his mind.

"Certainly," Flitwick nodded, placing his quill down on his desk and giving Harry his full, undivided attention. "What would you like to know?"

Before Harry could answer, there was a knock on the door and an older witch stood in the back of the classroom, holding a bundle of parchments in her arms. "Ah, Ms. Barbary, I'm so glad to see you. Come, come, Harry was just asking me a question about his future," Flitwick said looking over Harry's shoulder, gesturing for the witch at the door to enter the room. "You have those fourth year parchments graded, I assume, very good, very good." Then, turning his attention back to Harry, he cocked an eyebrow at the younger wizard. "You were saying?"

Harry looked back and forth between the woman and Flitwick, before shaking his head, not wanting to interrupt Flitwick's work. "I'll ask again later, Professor Flitwick, I see that you're busy," Harry said, making his way towards the door, willing to come back at another time that was better for the tiny professor of Charms.

"No, you don't have to leave," Flitwick said, not wanting Harry to think that he didn't have time for his students.

"It's okay, I'll just see you later," Harry grinned, before waving and leaving the room.

"Alright then, bye Harry, come to me anytime you want!" Flitwick called out, turning his attention back to his assistant, Ms. Barbary, who placed the parchments down onto his desk. He looked a few of them over before nodding appreciatively, happy with the work that the witch had done for him.

Later that night, Harry was just settling into his seat in front of Dumbledore's desk when the headmaster appeared from behind the portrait of Dexter Fortescue, seemingly coming into his office from his personal quarters. "I'm sorry, sir, the door was open and the stairs were up, I figured…" Harry stammered, having never gotten permission to enter Dumbledore's office before he had entered that night.

"Nonsense," Dumbledore shook his head, not thinking anything of it. As he stepped out of the portal, the portrait closed behind him, hiding the doorway from view once more.

"That's a relief," Harry smiled, happy that he hadn't overstepped his bounds by entering the office without the headmaster there.

"So I believe we were talking about Merlin when we last left, correct?" Dumbledore questioned, as he poured himself a drink from the cabinet off to the side. He offered one to Harry, and unlike what normally happened with the boy politely declining, Harry nodded his head, accepting the offer. With a grin, Dumbledore passed his own glass over to Harry, before pouring himself a new one and taking his seat behind his desk. "If I recall, you learned about the part that Merlin played in the break up of the Hogwarts four, but you did not learn about the part that he played in the Norman Invasion, of which I am sure you are familiar through your muggle learning."

"Absolutely," Harry said, pausing to take a sip of his drink before continuing on with his thoughts. It was bitter but delicious, making him take another sip immediately. "William comes over from Normandy and kills King Harold at the Battle of Hastings, usurping the throne and taking it over for himself."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded in agreement, well aware of the series of events and agreeing with Harry's assessment. "Like I previously mentioned, this was a time before the Statute of Secrecy, which allowed wizardkind to show their magic around muggles at their own discretion. Well, Merlin had become well-known enough that the muggle nobility of England at the time contacted him, though this was unknown to the public, should they have ever had magical trouble or needed something magical done for them. And they often did, which Merlin gladly helped through his Order of Merlin group, a cabal of wizards that set about helping muggles and protecting them from wizardkind that had it out for them."

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion for a brief moment, perplexed by that information, having assumed that it was the earlier Merlin that had acted as counsel, not the later one. "I thought that was the other Merlin who served as the king's advisor?"

"No, while Myrddin served as an advisor, it was to anyone, and not specifically a king, though he did advise a nobleman who would later become king more often than anyone else," Dumbledore answered, seeing how one could become confused by the different lives of the pair. "Anyway, after learning of Harold taking the throne, but before he was to invade, William sent a witch named Nimue to study and, if she could, weaken England's forces. She eventually learned about and found Merlin, whom at the time was acting as the sort of court mage of England, and pretended to want to learn his magic. Fancying her, he gave her all of his secrets, growing closer and falling in love with her all the while. Eventually, she betrayed him and put him into a mystical sleep, locked him away in cave, and left him incapable of escaping, preventing him from using his powers in defense of England."

"Why didn't anyone find the cave to let him out?" Harry immediately replied, wondering why no one had set out to release Merlin if he was so powerful. They obviously needed his help, right? So in his mind, it would stand to reason that someone, anyone, would take the time to find him and save him from his incarceration.

"That's the thing," Dumbledore said slowly, a smile appearing on his face as the twist to the story jumped into his mind. "He taught her nearly all of his magic, which included his most famous spell."

"Which was?" Harry prodded, wanting to know what the spell was—if Merlin had invented it and it was famous, surely he knew about it.

"The Fidelius Charm," Dumbledore answered simply, as a dawning look appeared on Harry's face, the story coming together in his mind. "Yes, so no one could find the cave because Nimue had hidden the cave from the world, and of course, if you're not told the secret from the secret keeper, the location is hidden so thoroughly as to not be on the Earth at all."

"He invented the Fidelius Charm?" Harry questioned back in a shocked tone, having not expected that. While it was true that he had never known about the genesis of the Fidelius Charm, he had assumed that it was invented in ancient Rome or someplace much older than medieval England because of the sound of it.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore agreed with a laugh, amused by Harry's surprise. "It was his biggest accomplishment. He invented it in an effort to hide the location of a family that was threatened by the warlord that we spoke about last week—he wanted to protect them, without inconveniencing the family and without hurting the warlord."

Harry stayed silent for a moment, going over everything he had just heard. "So basically what you're telling me is that he created one of the most powerful spells of all time on a whim?" Harry finally questioned, amazed at the talent that Merlin possessed, the seeming ease at which magic came to him if the legend was true.

Dumbledore nodded pensively, agreeing with that statement, fully aware that many of the greatest advancements in the world came to someone at the most unexpected of times. "He was an incredible sorcerer and a gifted mathmagician," He shrugged, not as impressed with the accomplishment as Harry was, though certainly understanding of the reaction. In his mind, Merlin's legacy was tied much more to the smaller, lesser powered spells that he had created; the ones that touched any individual at any given time, rather than the grand spell that most wizards and witches would never come across in their lifetime, let alone actually use.

"It's a wonder we confuse the two then, if both of them were so great," Harry supposed, shaking his head, inwardly wondering how the pair had been conflated from the start.

"Look at his chocolate frog card; it says that the dates of his life are unknown and that he is sometimes known as Prince of Enchanters," Dumbledore started slowly, a mischievous tone to his voice that Harry had not heard many times before. "To many, that would suggest that sometimes people call him that nickname and sometimes they don't, but it was actually a clever joke on the writer's part: he is sometimes called Prince of Enchanters because the other Merlin was never called that so when people talk about Merlin, they are sometimes talking about the Prince of Enchanters and sometimes they aren't. Get it?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow, going over what Dumbledore had just said, before letting out a small laugh. "That is pretty funny, actually." Then, thinking back to the story Dumbledore had told few minutes prior, he asked, "What happened to Nimue afterwards? What happened to her in the end?"

Dumbledore shrugged, not really having that information, knowing only the basic facts of the story—though he had heard rumors, unsubstantiated claims surrounding the witch. "After the deed was done and William was crowned King of England, she apparently found herself unable to continue living after she realized that she loved Merlin as much as he did her. As such, Nimue supposedly stabbed herself with William's sword, which was known to be goblin made and of great beauty, and then threw herself into a lake, drowning herself and the sword, where she became known as the lady of the lake and her legend grew from there. Centuries later, I'm sure you've heard the tales about her."

"Wait, I'm confused," Harry whispered, furrowing his brow, trying to figure the story out. "If Nimue was so in love with Merlin and felt badly enough for what she had done as to kill herself because of it, why didn't she just let him out of the cave?"

"Well, like I said, this is all legendary, so it could be that she wasn't the secret keeper," Dumbledore said with another shrug, the conversation having delved into areas that he was unprepared for—he was as ignorant about the subject matter as Harry appeared to be. "More than likely, she was betrayed by William's mage Armand, who probably was the secret keeper and had further enhanced the protections around the cave in order to protect it without her knowing. Those protections were great, beyond her skill to let him out, and because she was not the secret keeper, she could not tell any more skillful wizards where he was in order to bring them to help. By the time she learned how to break the enchantments, it had been at least a year and Merlin was probably already dead by that time. Or it could be something entirely different, we just don't know for sure. He could have already been dead by the time he arrived in the cave, and the cave was simply his final resting place or a euphemism for his tomb for all we know."

Harry bit his lip, imagining all that Merlin had gone through with Nimue. "If Nimue hadn't betrayed Merlin, if Merlin had been able to fight against William and the wizards or witches he brought with him…?" Harry said slowly, wondering if Merlin's entrapment was what caused Harold to fall at William's hand.

"I'm not sure William would have won," Dumbledore answered quietly, knowing that a wizard as capable as Merlin was said to be could take on more than a normal wizard or witch could. "It's hard to imagine that kind of power imbalance: that one wizard beats the combined efforts of an entire force of people; that one person outweighed the entire capability of William's allies."

"Why is that hard to imagine?" Harry questions sceptically as a smile appeared on his face, silently thinking about all of the great magic he witnessed Dumbledore perform back in his own time. He had been there when Dumbledore downed all of the ministry officials, including the Minister for Magic himself, in his office with the Benumbing Hex; he had seen the Death Eaters run away for their safety once Dumbledore had arrived in the Department of Mysteries that fateful night when Sirius had died, scattering as if they were so terrified of him that they didn't even bother to protect themselves, instead just fleeing from him on sight; and finally, he had a firsthand view of the spells that the wizard had used against Voldemort in their duel in the Ministry Atrium, the powers the great wizard had displayed against the snake-like Dark Lord. "If you weren't around, Lord Voldemort would have won a long time ago. You literally keep him from winning. If you weren't here, I'm not sure how long the Ministry of Magic would withstand Voldemort before it capitulated."

Dumbledore took a gulp of his drink, staying silent on the matter for a few moments, ruminating on how to answer what Harry had said. "Let's hope that doesn't happen," He finally whispered, allowing himself to talk to Harry as someone he cared about, rather than just a student.

Harry took a sip of his drink, as well, enjoying the casual conversation for what it was. "How could Merlin be trapped, though?" Harry questioned, disbelieving that Merlin couldn't escape his confines. "He's Merlin! He's one of the greatest wizards of all time!" He exclaimed in surprise, wondering if there was something that he was missing. "And I definitely remember you once telling the Minister for Magic that Azkaban couldn't hold you if you didn't want to be there. If that's the case, and you really could escape Azkaban, then how could a simple cave hold Merlin?"

"Azkaban isn't the most secure place on the planet, Harry," Dumbledore replied easily, aware that there was a place much worse to be than Azkaban. "It's very secure for most people, I agree, but for one of Merlin's caliber? He could escape Azkaban just the same as I could, I imagine. The cave in which he was trapped was bound to have more traps and curses and locks and impossibilities on it than anything we could ever imagine, which, in conjunction to his enchanted sleep, managed to keep him in there until it was too late and he was already dead."

"If it isn't the most secure, then what is?" Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow, wondering what place could prevent escape better than Azkaban could.

"Nurmengard," Dumbledore whispered, having performed the very spells on the topmost cell of Nurmengard himself, making sure it was nigh impossible to escape, except for the most extreme of circumstances.

"What's that?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, having never heard that term before as far as he knew. Was it another wizard prison? Now that he thought about it, he had never heard about another wizarding prison, making him wonder if there actually were any more prisons than just Azkaban.

"A topic for another time," Dumbledore said quietly, his gaze moving down to the desk in front of him.

Harry nodded, recognizing Dumbledore's tone, taking a sip of his drink once more. As silence loomed, he couldn't help but ponder the possibility of Voldemort being trapped in a cave: if Merlin could be imprisoned, why couldn't Voldemort? Wouldn't that stop the menace of the Dark Lord without wasting time to search for and find his horcruxes, therefore saving countless of lives? It was an option to Harry, though by the way Dumbledore had spoken about Azkaban's defenses, it didn't seem like it would be very easy for Voldemort to be imprisoned. Even still, it was something he wanted to look into in the near future, with an eye of perhaps seeing if it would work. "Do you think he knew that she was going to betray him?" He questioned as he placed his glass down onto the desk in front of him, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Some say he allowed her to do this to him, unwilling to raise his wand against her; some say he was taken off guard, while others say he was defeated in a straight duel," Dumbledore answered, understanding that Harry meant Merlin. "Personally, I like to think that Merlin was willing to let her make the choice to betray him. I believe that Merlin understood that it is our choices that make us who we are, not anything else, which means that he would have allowed her the opportunity to rectify her ill intent. My belief is supported by the fact that he was the protégé and most prized student of Salazar Slytherin, whom was an accomplished legilimens during his time; as such, there is no doubt that Salazar taught Merlin the art, whom would presumably then be an accomplished one himself, which would point to Merlin knowing what Nimue was going to do the entire time he was with her."

"But still, why didn't he fight her when she was locking him away?" Harry asked, still perplexed by Merlin getting caught so effortlessly. "She had made her choice, had proven that she wasn't going to change, so why wouldn't he save himself?"

"Well, like I said before, I can't tell you what happened, no one can," Dumbledore replied, hoping to instill in Harry the idea that sometimes a person has to see the consequences of their actions in order to be pushed to change for the better. "But perhaps, like many of us find from time to time, he loved her so very much that he could not raise his wand against her. Perhaps he found out that he did, in fact, love her more than he desired his freedom and his life, which prevented him from doing anything to stop her." Dumbledore paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before saying, "Or, more likely, it could be that he was already dead and the cave is just a term for his tomb," Dumbledore shrugged, not out of disinterest but out of a true lack of knowledge—there was no record of what they were discussing, barring oral tradition. "We just don't know as no history book can ever tell you what happened—only Merlin, Nimue, and maybe William's mage Armand can answer that for you."

Harry bit his lip in thought, trying to imagine what it would have been like to be Merlin. How does it feel to be betrayed by the person you loved most in the world? Did he feel bitter or was he okay with it, so long as she was happy with what she was doing? He didn't know, but he couldn't imagine there not being any animosity from Merlin over Nimue's actions—then again, he didn't know what it felt like to be so in love with someone like Merlin appeared to be with Nimue. At least, he didn't know what it felt like yet, but he knew it would happen one day, perhaps soon. "Can I ask you something about the Fidelius Charm?" Harry asked, changing the topic from Merlin himself to Merlin's famous spell.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said before taking a sip of his drink, finding joy in the brief furlough from the war against Voldemort that was transpiring outside of the halls of Hogwarts.

"How does the Fidelius Charm actually work?" Harry questioned interestedly, wanting to know the mechanics of the spell that eventually led to the death of his parents when the traitor Peter Pettigrew gave the secret of their location to Voldemort.

"It locks a single secret into the very soul, as ethereal and unquantifiable as it is, of a person, securing that secret against anyone from whom they so choose to withhold it," Dumbledore answered, starting at the very basics of the spell, before leading into much more detailed information. It was a potent and difficult spell, one that not many in the world could perform correctly. "The person not told the secret can stare at the very place that is protected by the charm for countless of days and weeks, close his eyes and listen to try and hear the voices, flail out his arms to try and feel the structure, or anything else you can imagine to make contact, but if they are not offered the secret by the keeper, they will not be able to get in, no matter how hard they try. The further away a keeper stays from the secret, the more potent the charm becomes and people won't even be able to get within a hundred yards of the protected place. The more powerful and skilled the caster is, the greater the area around the structure is protected, as well."

Harry nodded slowly, understanding everything that Dumbledore was saying. "When the Secret Keeper dies, what happens to the secret?"

"It is lost for all time," Dumbledore answered, swishing his drink around his glass as he stared out of the window, where he saw the trees of the Forbidden Forest swaying in the wind.

Harry furrowed his brows, having anticipated a different answer than that. "Everyone who knows the secret doesn't become keepers themselves?" He questioned, having presumed that from what little information he had gathered on his own.

"If the caster is not skilled enough to perform the spell properly or if they purposely want to tweak the spell to perform that way, it will, but that wouldn't be the wisest course of action, would it?" Dumbledore replied, turning his attention back to the younger wizard. "What would stop someone from weaseling their way into learning the secret and then killing the keeper to get what they want, therefore transforming themselves into the keeper themselves? A dangerous proposition that there, one that I wouldn't use due to the risk that it represents. Can you imagine the danger that the secret possesses if an ally of whom you're trying to hide from learns the secret and then murders the Secret Keeper, allowing them to tell the secret to their comrade? That's not a situation I would wish upon anyone."

"I never thought of that," Harry muttered, biting his lip, seeing that it would negate any protection granted if the spell worked that way. "What happens if the secret is tortured out of someone?"

"It cannot be," Dumbledore replied knowingly, confident in his knowledge of the spell. "It has to be willingly given without any sort of duress, you have to mean to divulge it or else the magic of the spell itself protects you from muttering it to end the torture." He finished, and then seeing Harry's face, he nodded wisely, saying, "That's why not many people are willing to be a Secret Keeper: they can be tortured and hurt, but won't be able to divulge it during those terrible moments of pain so the torture could be everlasting."

"But you can write the secret on a piece of paper and have it work?" Harry asked, referencing how he had become aware of 12 Grimmauld Place after reading a note written by Dumbledore, the Secret Keeper of the Order's headquarters in his own time.

"Certainly, as long as you intend on revealing the secret on the slip of parchment," Dumbledore agreed with a nod of his head. "It does not have to be a verbal exchange that reveals the secret. You can even physically bring someone to the secret by apparition as long as you intend on going there, another dangerous aspect of the charm."

As Harry listened to everything that Dumbledore had to say, a nagging thought entered his mind, one that he had tried to suppress for many years after learning of Pettigrew's betrayal. "And when the spell is performed, the caster knows who the Secret Keeper is?" He asked suddenly, wanting to see if his assessment of the situation Sirius had found himself in after Pettigrew had betrayed his friends was correct.

"Not necessarily, it depends on the intent of the caster: if there is a particular subject of the charm or if it's generally put over a particular place. If the charm is over a person or a group of people, then only the ones seeking protection know since they have to think about who they want while the spell is being performed, which means that no one but the ones being protected and the secret keeper know just who the Secret Keeper is," Dumbledore answered, shaking his head in the negative. "If the spell is over a place, then the caster has to think about whom the Secret Keeper will be, which oftentimes will be the caster themselves. Most casters know who the keeper is, obviously, since they're trusted, but it isn't always the case."

"That's why no one knew Pettigrew was the keeper," Harry whispered to himself, so quietly that Dumbledore could not distinguish it. With a thoughtful look on his face, Harry took a sip of his drink; finishing the glass and placing it back down onto the desk in front of him.

There was a brief pause in the conversation, a comfortable silence between the pair as they both quietly thought to themselves. "Do you want to learn some magic?" Dumbledore asked, staring at Harry through his half-moon spectacles, noticing the sudden change in the boy's demeanor. "It has been a few months since I last taught you something, no?"

"Absolutely," Harry excitedly agreed, thrilled at the prospect of learning from the greatest wizard of the age. "Isn't it a bit late to start, though?" Harry questioned, recognizing the time and selfishly not wanting to start so late that he wouldn't be able to learn as much as he could from the man.

"I suppose you are correct," Dumbledore nodded with a frown, watching as Harry rose from his seat and collected himself to leave. While Harry prepared himself, Dumbledore reached into his robes, grabbed his wand, and gave it one quick flick. As a result, the pair of glasses that once held the amber-colored liquid disappeared from sight, presumably banished to the kitchens to be cleaned for their next use.

"Bye sir," Harry whispered as he made his way to the door across the office.

"Till next time, Harry," Dumbledore replied, following the younger wizard with his gaze.

Harry paused as he reached down for the doorknob, a mischievous smile taking shape on his face. "Do you have any idea where the Crystal Cave is located?" Harry questioned, turning his head to look back at Dumbledore.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Dumbledore smiled back, waving to Harry as he turned the knob and left the office. As the door closed shut, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and looked out of the window for a brief moment, scanning the Hogwarts grounds. With a sigh, he rose from his chair and walked towards the headmaster portrait that led to his quarters, where it sprung open, allowing him entrance to the portal before immediately closing behind him.

That Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend day, which Harry planned on using to the utmost advantage in order to reconnect with an old friend. "Edgar!" Harry exclaimed, as he and Xenophilius walked into the Three Broomsticks to meet their good friend.

"Hey guys," Edgar Bones said with a smile, getting to his feet and giving them both a hug, before sitting back down. "How have you been?"

"Not as good as you, apparently," Xenophilius smiled, referencing the invitations they had received just days prior.

"Got the invitations, did you?" Edgar grinned, immediately knowing what Xenophilius was alluding to in his statement. "We figured the sooner the better, so why not? You guys are going to come, aren't you?"

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Harry replied, ordering a round of drinks for them all. The waitress nodded her head at his request, and flicked her wand towards the bar on the opposite side of the room, before walking to the next table that had called her over.

"Good," Edgar exclaimed in excitement, counting down the days to when he'd finally be married to the woman that had his heart. "I can't wait." He paused as the waitress came by with their drinks, and then looked over to Harry, giving him a questioning glance. "You know, no one important or no one Bellatrix would want to avoid is going to be there, so she can come, you don't have to hide there."

"Is that so?" Harry said with a large smile, realizing that he had yet to ask Bellatrix to the wedding. Then, raising his glass, which was filled with a yellow-colored liquid, he said, "To Edgar and Charlotte, may the wedding be as fun as I hope it's going to be." Both Edgar and Xenophilius clanked their glasses together over the table, before guzzling them down and ordering another round for the table.

Hours later, Harry and Xenophilius returned to Hogwarts at the precise time the students were ordered to come back to the school and not a moment before. They tiredly made their way up to the Ravenclaw common room, spending a few lingering moments trying to answer the riddle that the door knocker had asked. Saying hello to some of the fifth years that were in the common room studying for their O.W.L.s, they walked by them and up to their room, with both of them hopping into their respective beds as soon as they could. Closing the curtain around his own bed, Harry fell asleep, dreaming about attending Edgar's wedding with the prettiest witch in the world as his date.

The next morning, Harry awoke with a broad smile on his face, happy for the arrival of the new day. He intended on asking Bellatrix to Edgar's wedding later in the day when they saw each other, hoping that they would be able to go as a couple—a real, true couple, one that could show their affection for one another and not have to hide behind secretive looks. Until that time, however, he had some work to complete, so jumping down into his trunk, he started on his homework, planning on working through the day to get as much done as he could for the coming week. He worked through lunch, and it wasn't until late afternoon that he climbed out of his trunk and took a shower, getting ready for dinner that was to start in a few minutes.

Walking alone, he slowly exited the Ravenclaw common room and made his way down to the Great Hall, the hallways relatively empty. However, as he neared the stairs, he saw a tall wizard with long black hair and aristocratic good looks walking towards him, seemingly pocketing a piece of parchment as he neared Harry. "Sirius, what's up? I heard about your detention, not being able to compete in the dueling tournament must be a bummer," Harry said, giving his would-be godfather a small smile, sympathetic to the situation in which the wizard found himself. "Going the wrong way for dinner, aren't you?" He inquired, knowing that the Gryffindor common room was also not in the direction Sirius seemed to be heading.

"I would take a visit to the old Arithmancy classroom if I were you, Dumbledore." Sirius said, giving Harry a pointed look, conveying a message just as potent with his eyes as he did with his words. "I guess things didn't change as much as we wanted them to change."

"What?" Harry questioned, then realizing what Sirius had meant, he quickly rushed to the fifth floor, where the old Arithmancy classroom was located. While he didn't know it as the Arithmancy classroom, he did know about it, as it was the same room that Bellatrix and he had used for their occlumency and patronus sessions the year prior. Opening the door to the classroom, he was horrorstricken by what he saw behind it, a scene that he had hoped he would never had to witness for himself.

There in the room stood a group of Slytherins, each of whom Harry knew would become Death Eathers, all standing over the Daily Prophet that was outlaid on a desk, reading what appeared to be a story about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Their wands were out as they read, all seemingly worshipping the story as they all oohed and aahed, and laughed when one mentioned that it would be their classmates in that much pain soon enough. They did not hear the door open, so for a few moments, they continued as if he was not there, but Harry made his presence known. In the back of the group, looking over Rabastan Lestrange's shoulder stood Bellatrix Black, whose violet eyes went wide when she noticed Harry standing at the doorway.

Anger. Anger bellied up inside of him. For the first time since he had seen Sirius' death two years prior, Harry was angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. His eyes flashed red with barely contained rage, as if a great snake was rising inside of him and readying itself to strike. His face was flushed and his gaze was narrowed, first at the Daily Prophet and then at the Slytherins standing above it. His breath came faster and faster, his chest rising quicker than it normally would before, with one great thrust, he jetted his wand down to the ground as if wielding a hammer and released a great boom that sounded like a muggle firearm.

There was a flash of silver light, which raced at three of the Slytherins to his right—Rabastan Lestrange, Evan Rosier, and someone that Harry couldn't name. Before anyone could react, he brought his wand back up once more and, imitating his actions just moments prior, brought his wand down to the ground and erupted another great boom around the room, which struck the three Slytherins that were standing in front of him. As if in slow motion, everyone in the room was struck in the chest before they could defend themselves and immediately dropped to the floor, seemingly unconscious, as the silver lights created by Harry's spells retreated back into nothingness. The only one still standing in the room besides Harry was Bellatrix, who had been untouched by the silver light.

Bellatrix looked down at her Slytherin friends, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion, both at Harry's sudden appearance and his impossibly powerful spell. She had never seen anything like it, and looking tentatively at Harry, she looked into his eyes and couldn't help but see someone else; there was a red gleam in his eyes, his handsome features masked by the emotion that was stewing inside of him. "It's not what it looks like," Bellatrix said slowly, turning her attention to the wizard and realizing how angry Harry was, how he was trying to control the temper he so warned her about throughout their time together. She could clearly see that he was barely containing the rage inside of him, his abhorrence at the sight of the Slytherins unmasked for the world to see. "It's not."

"I thought…I thought…" Harry growled, staring straight at Bellatrix, his gaze morphing from the adoration he felt for her into the hatred that he held for the Bellatrix from his own time. His wand was held tightly in his hand, his knuckles white at his grip, though she did not move to grab her own, secure in the knowledge that he would not raise his against her. Without saying another word, he spun on his heels and walked out of the room, too disgusted with the situation to speak.

He made his way quickly down the stairs, two by two, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. Then, as he neared the hall, he changed directions and walked through the large front doors of the castle and outside to the grounds, where the wind was blowing and hail had been coming down in spurts throughout the day. He started walking in the direction of Hagrid's hut, deciding to go there for dinner instead of the Great Hall, even with Hagrid's sub-par cooking skills, feeling as if he needed someone near him in order to calm him down.

"Harry!" He heard a voice call from the castle, and he looked back and saw that it was Bellatrix; she was standing just outside of the doorway, staring in his direction. He stopped heading towards Hagrid's hut and walked over to the lake instead, taking a seat on a large boulder as he waited for her to come to him—he dare not go to her. She walked briskly to him, apparently not caring about the hail or wind either, before stopping around ten feet from him, her hair blowing in the wind and her cheeks flushed. "Why do you even care?" Bellatrix snapped, tears starting to accumulate in her violet eyes, the emotional wall that she prided herself on, the one that made her such an accomplished occlumens, beginning to crumble around her as a sudden well of feelings started to rush into her chest and heart.

"Because I love you," Harry said quietly, not looking at her, instead just staring at the lake, watching as a few pieces of hail started to bounce off of the glass-like surface of water. The hail was small and only came down slowly, allowing the pair to stand outside without much inconvenience.

"I was basically betrothed before I even met you, and then, then you drop in from the future and completely mess up my life. I would have been fine without you," Bellatrix lashed out, angry at what was happening to her, angry at the turmoil and confusion that she felt inside of her. "I didn't need any of this!"

"You would have been locked in a loveless marriage, dead on the inside, a dark witch and a servant of Voldemort, one who tortured and killed countless of innocent people," Harry sighed heatedly, astonished that she would assume such a thing. "That does not sound fine to me. If that's what you want for yourself and your future, so be it, but you have to decide, you have to make the choice."

"Just give me reasons to believe that you would do the same thing for me that you're asking of me to do for you, that you would give up everything for me just as you want me to do." Bellatrix pleaded, a great well of emotion starting to beat inside of her chest as she the realization that she would have to choose dawned on her.

"I have, Bellatrix, I already have!" Harry exclaimed, spinning around to face her, meeting her violet gaze with his own blue-green one. "I told you my most important secret, without knowing how you would react to it. You're the only one, the only one I have ever told about my travels to—Hagrid and Dumbledore only know because they were there when I first arrived; they were the ones that got me situated. I haven't even told Edgar or Xenophilius that yet. I've given up chances to befriend my parents, to befriend my godfather, to learn more about all of them, to focus on you, to be with you. I've given up everything so far for you, all for you. If you think I'm being selfish by forcing you to make a choice then I don't know what to say, because that is not even close to the truth."

"What you're asking of me is different, you can always form the relationships with your family, but you're asking me to cut off mine entirely," snapped Bellatrix, trying to show Harry the difference between what they each were doing for the other person. "Why now? Why here? Why can't we just go back to where we were yesterday?"

"When I woke up this morning, I was happy, I was going to ask you to go with me to Edgar's wedding," Harry whispered, his tone changing from what it was before—it was somber now, as if he was saddened and not angry anymore. "But then, when I saw you in there with them, doing whatever it was you were doing, my heart broke. And I can't keep feeling this way without an answer."

"I don't want to do this now!" Bellatrix yelled, though Harry knew it was more to herself than at him. He knew that she was fighting against him because she was scared to make up her mind, scared of making the wrong choice, a fear that Harry empathized with great deal. However, Harry also knew that it was time for her to make a choice, and he believed that sometimes, you had to just take the plunge and hope for the best, rather than worry about making the wrong decision.

Harry continued to watch the lake, not immediately reacting to what Bellatrix had said. "I believe that a person only has to do two things in order to have a happy life: they have to be courageous and they have to be brave. Be courageous and be brave, Bellatrix, be with me and in my heart you will remain. I promise you'll be happy. I promise. But I can't walk the path that you're tempted to walk, I won't do it. I can't do it; it's not in me to do it. I'm sorry, but you have to make up your mind; I can't ignore it any longer. You have to make a choice. I'm okay with the secrecy, if that's what you want, but you have to make your choice." With that, he got up from the rock and walked around the witch, heading towards the small hut that sat on the other side of the lake and served as Hagrid's home, not intending on saying another word to her ever again until she made the choice on the direction that her life was going to go.

As he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder what would her choice be? Would she pick him or her blood purity beliefs? He knew that she loved him, however deep that love went, but he didn't know if her love for him overpowered the beliefs that he knew she held inside of her, the ideological goals that her family had bestowed upon her. She didn't like muggles, didn't think anything good about them, but yet, still, she tolerated being with him, knowing full well that it would come to this one day. She not only tolerated being with him, but all the while she was with him over the past year she knew that she would have to decide whether her thirst for power, for superiority was what she would pursue in her life, rather than a quiet life with a man that loved her dearly, and even with that knowledge, she still willingly put herself in the situation, which showed that his life was a viable alternative in her mind.

So with that in mind, Bellatrix stayed there for nearly an hour, sitting on the same rock Harry had been on previously, a pensive expression on her face, truly thinking about what she wanted out of life. Every so often she would inhale deeply, relieving the stress that was cropping up inside of her, trying to ease the tension that the situation had brought upon her. Eventually, with her teeth starting to chatter in the cold, she rose from the rock and started to walk away. As she neared the fork in the path, one direction leading back to the castle and the other leading to the small hut, she looked back and forth between both options, making sure that she had come to the decision that she wanted. Silently, she started up the path that led to Hogwarts, the wind blowing her hair as she held her robes close to her body for warmth, before she paused once more, and looked back at the solitary hut—she could just barely see the puffs of smoke coming out of the chimney through the darkened night. Then, turning around, she walked the opposite way she was heading at first and made the trek over to the hut that was in the distance; upon arrival, she gave the wooden door two swift knocks, announcing her presence to the people inside.

She didn't know what she was going to say, what she was going to do, but she realized that her even contemplating what he said was her answer—she wanted him more than she ever wanted anything else. She wanted him more than she wanted to pursue the darkness that was inside of her, more than she wanted to pursue her purist ideals, which was an idea that she would have laughed at just a year prior, having scoffed at the presence of muggles up until the point that Harry entered life. As she waited, she briefly looked up at the moon as it started to show itself behind the clouds; she had no idea what the moon's sudden appearance meant, but she hoped that it was a good sign, one that showed she was making the right decision.

A moment later, the door swung open and there stood Harry, a neutral expression on his handsome face. When their eyes met, no words needed to be spoken, and he immediately enveloped her in a hug—she smelt of white chocolate and fruit, with a hint wood, and her hair felt like silk as it fell onto his face. When they broke apart, he grabbed her hand and brought her inside, closing the door to the cold and the hail that was starting to fall once more. She didn't know how it would work, if it would work at all, if the darkness inside of her would one day drive them apart, but she knew that she had to take the chance, the chance of having something greater in her life than just her beliefs; she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't at least try, she wouldn't be able to live with herself without choosing the path that she had decided. She had made her choice: it was him. And she knew that her choice would be the correct one, until fate showed that it had a different plan in store for her…but for right then and there and the foreseeable future, it was him and she would strive for it to always be him.


	32. The Tides of the Moon: Changes

Harry Potter and the Tides of the Moon

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: Happy Halloween, everyone!

S/N 2: As of Chapter 31, I consider Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun completed. The story that I wanted to be told in regards to Harry and Bellatrix during their time in Hogwarts and what led to them coming together is finished. However, this starts the final part of the overall story, which will run about ten to twelve chapters. As such, I don't know if I'll just keep posting in this story or if will be creating a new story under the name Harry Potter and the Tides of the Moon.

Chapter 32: Harry Potter and the Tides of the Moon: Changes

Harry and Bellatrix silently walked into the Room of Requirement having decided to meet mid-afternoon the next day. They each took a seat on the couches opposite one another, across from a coffee table that separated them, allowing them to be close enough that they could talk, but not so close that they felt that they needed to be attached to each other. There was a silence between them, not necessarily awkward, but if one focused on it, they could feel the tension that was beginning to mount. It wasn't that either didn't want to talk to the other, in fact, it was quite the opposite; instead, it was just that they were entering a territory that neither had much experience in, which prevented the easy discussion that would normally take place.

"I think we have to finally talk about something we've been ignoring," Bellatrix eventually said, starting off the conversation, knowing exactly why they were there. "About what happened yesterday, about where we go from here…"

"I agree," Harry nodded, having anticipated a particular topic of conversation, and in fact desiring it.

"So…?" Bellatrix prodded, not daring to start the talk herself. She wasn't scared; no, instead it was because she flat out did not know where to begin, what it was that he needed to hear from her. So because of that, she wanted very much for him to just say what was on his mind and allow her to react to that, to respond to what he put out there.

"You can't be a Death Eater," Harry said bluntly, knowing that would be the crux of the conversation, the matter which there would be no negotiation about. "If this is to work, you can't be going around hunting and hurting muggles. Because I will stop you if you do, I promise you that."

"And you can't force your muggle loving-ness on me," Bellatrix replied, not seeing how it would work if he thought he could do that and she would be okay with it. "Because I'm never going to love muggles. I will learn to tolerate them and I promise to not act against them in any way, but that's the most I can promise."

Harry studied Bellatrix for a moment, making sure she was willing to go through with what she promised, and then gave a slight nod of his head, assenting to her request. "I won't," Harry said in agreement, promising her that he would keep his mouth quiet and not try to get her to like muggles or experience living as a muggle. "I won't try to change you, just no saying mudblood, no hurting anyone, and no helping or associating with the Death Eaters at all. And I promise you don't have to get involved if I want to help a muggleborn." Harry bargained, taking a deep breath to ease the disgust he felt for himself—he knew what he was doing and how it sounded, but yet he didn't see any other option: he wanted this to work with her, even going so far as being willing to push his moral stances back a bit to make room for her in his life. "Deal?"

Bellatrix looked at Harry, just as Harry had done moments prior, weighing her options, though she knew what her answer would be. "Deal," She agreed as she bit her lip, furrowing her brow in thought.

"What is it?" Harry questioned with a cocked eyebrow, confused by her sudden change of demeanor.

"I have a lot of questions, ones that I've been holding in all this time," Bellatrix said, hoping that he would answer a few things that she had wanted to ask since he first revealed himself as from the future, but had never found the opportunity to do so naturally without making it seem like she was asking for different reasons other than just curiosity.

"Ask whatever you want," Harry nodded with a neutral expression on his face, wondering what it was that she wanted to know. "Get whatever is on your mind out in the open, because after today, I want to start fresh and forget about everything I know about you from the future. I want us both to start fresh."

Bellatrix nodded, seeing the wisdom of what Harry had said and appreciating that Harry would do that for her. "Which ones are the Death Eaters?"

"This isn't the entirety of them, but Avery, Mulciber, Snape, Rosier, the Lestranges are the ones that I definitely know," Harry replied quietly, counting off the names on his fingers. While he did know a few others, he decided to withhold the name of Regulus Black, Sirius' brother, deciding that she would be okay to talk to him since he was her family. If she was willing to cut off all contact with the others, he was sure that Regulus wouldn't be able to talk her back down the path of becoming a Death Eater and wouldn't be able to make her feel the pressure to give into her blood purity ideals. It was a risk, he knew, but he wanted her to have someone to talk to, even if it was a potentially bad person.

Bellatrix was not surprised by the names, having previously assumed all of those wizards would be joining with Voldemort the moment they left Hogwarts. "And I was the Dark Lord's most powerful servant?"

"One of them, yes," Harry agreed with a slight nod of his head, inwardly amused by her ego needing to hear that. "I think Barty Crouch, Jr, may have been more powerful, but you were certainly up there, unfortunately."

"I see," Bellatrix murmured, looking down at the floor as she gathered her thoughts. She went silent for a few moments, not really knowing how to move forward, how to get beyond the butterflies of admitting how deeply she cared about him. Then, looking up at Harry, she gave him a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry I prevented you from becoming friends with your parents."

"It's fine, no worries," Harry smiled, not wanting her to think that he regretted taking the time to be with her, rather than get to know his parents more. "It'll happen when it happens, Remus told me that."

"Remus? The current one?" Bellatrix asked, wondering how he managed to befriend Remus without first becoming good friends with his father.

"No," Harry shook his head in the negative, willing to divulge that he spoke to Remus through a diary. "The Remus from my own time left me a journal with his memories imprinted in it so I would have someone to talk to in the past. I write in it every so often, though I admit, I used to write a lot more than I do now, which I feel badly about."

"Imprinted his memories?" Bellatrix whistled, thinking of the ways in which someone could imprint memories into an object. She knew that there were a few charms that could potentially do it, but she had never experimented with any of them as it never interested her before then. "That's a fair bit of magic right there."

"Yes, it is," Harry agreed, not really understanding how it was done without creating a horcrux—he knew that it was only Remus' memories and personality in the journal, not a piece of his soul, unlike Tom Riddle's journal. "He was a great wizard in my time; he was very knowledgeable and skilled."

"Why don't you write in it as much anymore?" Bellatrix inquired, truly intrigued in why he would stop writing. Was it because of her? Or was it because he was trying to distance himself from the future to which he knew he could never return?

"I don't really know," Harry shrugged, feeling a bit disappointed in himself because of it. "I guess, as I became better friends with Xeno, Greta, Milton, Bertram, and Edgar, and became closer to you, I just kind of…I don't know." Bellatrix nodded in understanding, but did not reply.

They stayed silent for a few moments, the conversation not coming as smoothly as they were used to, each lost in their own thoughts, seemingly pondering about what was to come for them. "I guess you want to know what we were doing last night," Bellatrix said quietly, breaking the silence, knowing that it would be her that had to take the steps to allow the relationship to work since it was her issues that were holding them back.

"No, not really," Harry shook his head, really not wanting to hear about it. Whatever it was that she had been doing was in the past, and by bringing it up, he feared that his own dislike of the Slytherins would be channeled onto Bellatrix, therefore tainting his opinion of her, which was something he desperately wanted to avoid.

"I get that I can't be around those people anymore, but honestly, we were just teaching Mulciber how to duel so that he had a better chance in the tournament and the Slytherins would win," Bellatrix started, ignoring Harry and informing him what was transpiring in that classroom the night before. "But I get that reading the Daily Prophet for stories about…about Voldemort isn't the best thing to do."

Harry's eyes jumped to Bellatrix's as she said Voldemort's name out loud, a clear change from how she used to go about referencing Tom Riddle. "I understand," He murmured, momentarily unable to talk, inwardly proud that she said the Dark Lord's name out loud.

"Your father is going to destroy him, so that should be fun to watch," Bellatrix joked, earning a laugh from Harry. "You mentioned you were going to ask me to something yesterday…" She inquired with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow, hoping that he still wanted to go to the wedding with her.

"Oh, that?" Harry smiled coyly, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. "It was nothing, I just wanted to have the prettiest date at this small party that Edgar is having."

"Hm, is that so?" Bellatrix questioned in a neutral tone, not giving away her feelings on the matter one way or the other. "You should get on that then, like right away."

"Would you like to be my date to Edgar's wedding?" Harry asked as his gaze met her own, desiring for nothing more than to be accompanied to his best friend's wedding by Bellatrix.

"Sure, I would love to," Bellatrix nodded with a grin, inwardly more eager than she expected herself to be. "When is it?"

"The Saturday after Easter," Harry answered, realizing that it was a little less than two weeks away. He was excited for it—it would be both his first wedding and his first chance to experience how life would be outside of Hogwarts.

"Okay," Bellatrix said, accepting the invitation happily, pondering the things that she would need to do in order to prepare for it. "I'll have to get some new robes for that."

"Why bother?" Harry questioned sarcastically, running his gaze over what she was wearing. "You'll still look pretty even in your old ratty ones," Harry joked with a smile, earning a playful slap on the arm from Bellatrix.

"None of my robes are ratty," Bellatrix hissed, narrowing her gaze at the wizard across from her. She slowly moved her hands towards her wand in a threatening manner, seeing what he would do.

"I know, I know," Harry said, putting his hands up in defense, not wanting her to attack, fully aware that it would not end well for him. "I give; your robes are the most elegant and graceful ones I've ever seen."

Bellatrix gave him a smug smirk, happy that she got her way. "What are you doing over break?" Bellatrix inquired randomly, her countenance twisting into a pensive appearance.

"I'm not doing anything other than going to Edgar's wedding and his bachelor party the night prior, why?" Harry responded, wondering what she had in mind. Did she want to get together with him and perhaps do something out of the ordinary?

"We're going to make good on that deal we made at Christmas," Bellatrix replied, earning a curious expression from Harry, though she did not expound on her idea any further.

Bellatrix departed a few minutes later, leaving Harry alone in the Room of Requirement as he gathered his things. Once his bag was packed, he made his way out of the room, where he was unsurprised to see the tall, dark-haired wizard named Sirius Black leaning against the wall opposite to the door, seemingly waiting for him. "I figured I'd be seeing you eventually," Harry drawled, raising an eyebrow at the younger wizard, his future godfather. He gestured for Sirius to follow him as he walked down the hallway, having no real destination in mind, but knowing that a walk would do them some good. "I take it we should talk."

"Sure," Sirius agreed, pushing himself off the wall and heading down the hall with Harry. While Sirius was a tad taller than Harry, it was only by an inch or so, making them both relatively the same size, which allowed them to talk like equals.

"I'm glad you told me about what was going on last night," Harry started, as they walked around Hogwarts, the Grey Lady flying right by them. "I had no idea about it beforehand."

"They've been meeting like that a couple times a week for the past few weeks," Sirius said, having been looking into it in an effort to ascertain what it was they were doing for a while. It wasn't until the previous night that he finally felt confident enough to confront Harry about it, hoping that the wizard wouldn't immediately write him off as not believing of Bellatrix's ability to change but instead see that he was telling the truth about the matter.

"Even though they apparently weren't doing anything wrong," Harry said, filling Sirius in on the activities that the Slytherins partook in while they were in the classroom. "Being around a bunch of future Death Eaters like that was something Bellatrix shouldn't have been doing."

"Grimy gits, they are," Sirius muttered with a scowl, disgusted by their evil sense of humor and their repulsive views on blood purity. To him, they were hypocrites: after all, he was, to his chagrin, purer than nearly all of them, yet he wasn't going around touting his purity like they were, which just served as proof of their hypocrisy.

"I've dealt with it," Harry said, truly believing that he had put an end to Bellatrix hanging around the Slytherins like she had been doing. While time would tell the truth, he knew that this was different, that Bellatrix had made her choice and would take the steps necessary to go through with that decision.

"How so?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow, curious as to what Harry had done in regards to the problem.

"She's made her choice," Harry replied, hoping that Sirius didn't fight him on the issue and see that things had changed. "She's going to be distancing herself from the Slytherins from now on."

"And you trust that?" Sirius questioned, though his tone was neutral and did not betray his actual feelings on the matter. He had seen them both run out of the school the night before and not return, which he assumed was an important sign that something had happened

"I gave her the option to walk away, Sirius," Harry said honestly, seeing that Bellatrix made the decision to make it work, one that she would have not made unless she truly was willing to do what it would take to make it so. "She didn't. She came to me. She knew what she would have to do by choosing me, and yet, she still chose me. Together, along with Alphard and hopefully Andromeda in time, I'm positive we can keep her on this path."

Sirius looked down at the floor for a moment, quietly thinking about what he heard, before flicking his eyes over to Harry. "You think?" Sirius inquired, not really sure how he felt on the issue. On one hand, it was preposterous to think that Bellatrix would actually take the steps necessary to do what Harry was saying, but on the other, Harry didn't seem like the kind of guy that would lie to him, which made him believe the wizard.

"I told you if I saw something wrong, I'd step in. I did just that last night," Harry reminded him, hoping that the wizard would give him, and Bellatrix by proxy, the benefit of the doubt. "I took it to the next level and she responded positively."

"Yeah," Sirius muttered in thought, inwardly contemplating everything that Harry was saying. Did he believe that Bellatrix could change? Could the witch that he knew since childhood to have twisted ideals on what made or did not make a wizard drop those ideals and see the truth so easily? Could she forget all that her parents had taught her growing up and evolve into a person that did the right thing? He wasn't sure that she could.

"Like I said, it's a process, and now we're further along in the process than we were a few days ago. Help me help her, Sirius," Harry pleaded, knowing that he wouldn't be able to do it all by himself, fully aware that he would need help in the matter, including Sirius'. "Help her."

Later that night, Harry made his way to the Great Hall for dinner, along with his Ravenclaw friends, Xenophilius Lovegood, Greta Catchlove, and Bertram Aubrey. As he sat at the long house table of Ravenclaw, his gaze moved around the Great Hall, observing who was there, trying to see if he could recognize anyone from the future like he usually did to pass the time while eating. Eventually, his line of sight moved over to the Slytherin table, where he did not see Bellatrix, who normally sat in roughly the same spot each night. Figuring that she was not hungry, he shrugged and started on his meal, feeling a bit peckish himself.

Skipping breakfast the next day as was his routine, he went to Herbology in the morning and then went to lunch afterwards, where he met Bertram and Xenophilius. As he made himself a sandwich and poured himself a drink, his gaze moved over to the Slytherin table once more, searching for Bellatrix, hoping to be able to wave hello to her. Confusingly, because he always saw her at lunch, she was not present at the table yet again, though Harry continued to think nothing of it, instead just deciding that she was too busy with her schoolwork and Head Girl duties to eat. With a shake of his head, Harry finished his sandwich, downed his glass of pumpkin juice, and headed off to his room, wanting to complete the Herbology work that had been assigned to him earlier in the day.

That night at dinner, again Bellatrix was a no show, and Harry started to worry as a result. Deciding that he would give it one more day, he went back to his room that night and started on his Transfiguration work for the next day. Like all nights of the full moon, he sat on the windowsill and looked out towards the grounds, not expecting to see his father or Sirius in their animagus forms, but putting himself in a position to see them anyway. Unfortunately, he did not see either, and as the clock neared midnight, Harry pulled himself off of the sill and went to sleep, intending on waking up early enough to get breakfast the next day.

"Harry Dumbledore, awake to eat eggs?" Greta smiled the next morning as she watched Harry take a seat at the table across from her. "This is the first time I've seen you at breakfast since last year."

"Yeah, I was hungry, what can I say?" Harry lied with a smile, his eyes drifting over to the Slytherin table. He scanned the full table, from the first years down to the seventh years, looking for one witch in particular, but not finding her in the mass of Slytherins. "You didn't see Bellatrix come or go, did you?"

"Nope," Greta whispered in response, continuing to eat her breakfast, not thinking twice about Harry's question. She was well aware that Harry and Bellatrix were very close, and she figured Harry just wanted to speak to the Slytherin about something, rather than there being an issue between the pair.

"Thanks," Harry said, pouring himself a glass of juice and taking a sip, wondering what was going on with Bellatrix. He wasn't very hungry so he didn't eat, but after finishing his juice, he got to his feet, said his goodbyes, and headed off to class, Bellatrix at the forefront of his mind.

He was distracted through most of the class, but he luckily managed to pay enough attention to hear McGonagall describe how the Easter exam would take place that Friday. To complete their exam, the students were to successfully accomplish human to animal transfiguration with their partners that they had chosen at the beginning of the term—Bertram in Harry's case. If they received below an acceptable, they were to compose an essay over what they did wrong during the break, which McGonagall assured them would help them for their N.E.W.T exams at the end of the year.

Once class ended, Harry walked back up to his room and intended on taking a nap, feeling a bit tired because of his early start. Luckily, when he arrived, there was no one there, so he quietly took off his robes, threw on some more comfortable clothes, and jumped into bed. He pulled the curtains to his four-poster closed, and closed his eyes. While it took a few minutes to finally fall asleep, eventually his mind settled and he was able to drift off into dreamland for a couple of hours.

Later that night, before he left for dinner, Harry popped open his trunk, reached into one of his locks and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," He whispered with his wand pointed at the parchment, watching as it sprung to life with lines, bubbles, shapes, and words. His eyes skimmed over the map of Hogwarts, searching for one name in particular, hoping that it would be easy to find. He found it alone in what he knew to be in the school's dungeons, seemingly coming out of the Slytherin common room. He followed the dot, watching as it went by the Great Hall and proceeded to enter the kitchens, where it came to a stop in the center of the room, presumably at the table that was there.

Quickly, Harry threw the map back into the trunk and closed the lid, rushed out of his room and the common room, and ran to the Great Hall, where he searched for Greta. She had just taken her seat, sitting alone at the end of the table, her other friends apparently not having arrived just yet, which was perfect for Harry. "Want to do me a favor?" Harry asked as he neared her, looking up at the blonde witch, hoping that she would be willing to help him just like he would help her if she needed it.

"What is it?" Greta nodded, being more than happy to help Harry in whatever he needed. To her, Harry was one of her closest friends, a friend that had overtaken many of her friendships that had unfortunately fallen apart throughout her years at Hogwarts.

"Get Milton and come with me," Harry replied, not informing her of anything else, but instead just hoping that she would be willing do as he had asked without question for the time being.

With a nod, Greta got up from the seat and walked over to the Hufflepuff table, whispered for Milton to get up and walked back over to Harry as he waited at the door. Once they were there, Harry gestured for them to follow him and the trio left the Great Hall as a result, heading down the stairs. As they walked, Harry took out his wand, summoned a patronus, and then banished it, sending a message to Xenophilius, who was still up in the Ravenclaw tower.

"Where are we going?" Greta finally questioned, wondering what was up. While she had a general idea of where she was headed, she didn't know why they were going there when they could simply stay in the Great Hall.

"To the kitchens to eat dinner down there tonight," Harry replied as they arrived in the cellar, which housed the Hogwarts kitchens. He stopped as they reached a portrait of a bowl a fruit, and he tickled the pear, which would open the portal that led to the kitchens.

Bellatrix's back was facing them as they entered, so she did not see Harry or the others standing not twenty feet from the table in the center of the kitchen. "Can you give me a moment with her?" Harry whispered, earning a nod from both Greta and Milton, who understood what he was going to do and why there were down there. With an appreciative smile, he walked over to the table and took a seat next to Bellatrix, startling the witch a bit.

Bellatrix stayed quiet for a second or two, just staring at him, before she questioned, "How did you know I was here?"

"Intuition," Harry smiled, bringing his arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Eating dinner," Bellatrix said, gesturing to the food in front of her, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.

"By yourself?" Harry raised an eyebrow, earning a shrug from the witch. "You really think I'd let you eat alone?" Harry questioned rhetorically, turning and motioning for Greta and Milton to come join them, which they promptly did.

"Hey Bellatrix," Greta smiled as she took a seat on the opposite side of the table, across from Harry. Bellatrix moved her gaze from Harry to the newcomers, surprised by their sudden appearance.

"Evening," Milton waved, sitting next to Greta, his stomach grumbling in hunger a bit. He was just starting on his meal when Greta pulled him away from the table, so he was quite happy to finally be able to eat, regardless of where it had to take place.

"What the…?" Bellatrix said confusedly, furrowing her brows, wondering what they were there for as more food appeared on the table in front of them.

"Sorry I'm late; I think I was attacked by a swarm of aquavirius maggots," Xenophilius arrived, sliding into the seat next to Harry. "I got away from them, though, so don't worry about them coming." He reached over and grabbed the plate of roasted half-chickens, taking one off for himself and placing it on the plate that had appeared in front of him.

Everyone but Bellatrix began to dig in, while the witch simply sat there, staring around at the table in bewilderment. Then, as if he knew that she was having a difficult time processing what was happening, Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze once more, smiling at her all the while. Bellatrix met his gaze, and Harry nodded to her, silently telling her apparently what she needed to hear. Shaking her head, Bellatrix returned to her food, quietly listening to the conversation for the rest of the night until it was time to leave.

As Harry and Xenophilius went back to their room, Bertram was sitting on his bed, seemingly reading a book, while Gaspard and Derrick were talking quietly on the windowsill, watching the grounds. Harry readied himself for bed, changing into more comfortable clothes and then walked over to his trunk in order to grab a book. "Merlin's beard!" Bertram suddenly exclaimed, earning the attention of everyone in the room.

"What is it?" Harry questioned worriedly, hoping that there wasn't anything wrong.

"What?" Bertram said confusedly, and upon realizing that he had said that out loud, shook his head in the negative. "Nothing, sorry, I didn't mean to say that so loudly." He said, everyone returning to whatever they had been doing before the interruption.

"So in the habit of exclaiming Merlin's beard randomly now, are you?" Harry grinned, as he jumped into his bed with a transfiguration book, intending on studying up for his Transfiguration exam that was to take place at the end of the week.

"It's an affliction that I can't seem to break," Bertram smiled sarcastically, earning a laugh from Harry.

The pair went silent for a few minutes, but then Harry looked over to Bertram, his brows furrowed. "I have a question for you," Harry said, looking over to the wizard as the name Merlin jumped to his mind. "When you grew up, did you grow up with muggle tales of Merlin or did your parents tell you mainly magical stories from Beedle the Bard and Beatrix Bloxam?"

"Me? Yeah," Bertram nodded in the affirmative, recalling the stories that he heard as a child. "My mother is a half-blood, so I have a few muggle relatives that would tell me what they knew about Merlin."

"What did they say?" Harry inquired, wondering if they had heard the same tales growing up in the muggle world. While he was never told stories from his aunt and uncle, he had heard of Merlin and King Arthur when he was in primary school from a few of his teachers, whom told him tales of magic and adventure that he would never forget.

"That he was a wizard of King Arthur, whose father was a demon, and that he lived his life in reverse," Bertram replied with a shrug, not seeing that much of a difference between the muggle story and what he knew about the real Merlin. "Other than that, it's the same as the wizarding world."

"That's right, muggle myth does include that he's half-demon, what's that called again?" Harry asked, trying to remember the term, though coming up blank.

"A cambion," Bertram said distractedly, looking back down at his book. "Did you not eat dinner tonight?"

"No, I did, I just ate in the kitchens," Harry answered, flipping the page of his Transfiguration book.

"I see," Bertram nodded with a frown, a tad hurt that Harry hadn't invited him along with them.

The next day found Harry sitting in his Charms classroom. It was the last class before Easter exams, which were to take place in only a few days time. There was no lecture that day, instead the class was spent with the students all asking questions, learning whatever they needed to know in order to be secure in their knowledge on the subject. Harry doodled on a piece of parchment all the while, not really interested in hearing about the charms that the other students were going to perform, instead simply wanting to focus on his own charm. As the class came to an end, Harry heard Flitwick call out his name, so after gathering his things, he walked up to the head of the class with a questioning look on his face. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"Yes, to make up for not being able to answer your questions last week!" Flitwick squeaked, wanting to show Harry that he always made time for his students and the week prior was an aberration. "I believe you wanted to ask about your future prospects, if I'm not so mistaken."

"Yeah, I just had one question," Harry nodded, remembering what he wanted to ask the former duelist. "The dueling career, how does it work exactly?"

"It depends on what league you're in, if you're an individual or on a team, and what your ranking is. There are tournaments around Europe, and a World Tournament, that decides a person's ranking." Flitwick lectured, recalling his days as a duelist and how he would travel across the world in order to compete in the duels. "Likewise, there are small tournaments around both this country and all of Europe that happen every couple of months, which award galleons and other prizes to the winners. Depending on the circuit, the higher your rank, the bigger the chance of being challenged to duel, with your ranking on the line. In other words, the world's number one ranked duelist is challenged all the time basically."

"Like boxing?" Harry questioned, inwardly wondering if the structure of the sport was similar to muggle boxing, where a champion would be challenged for their belt every few months or so.

"Is that a muggle sport?" Flitwick questioned, recognizing the word in passing. Seeing Harry's agree with him that it was a muggle sport, he nodded his assent. "While I'm not definitive on the comparison, yes, I believe it is." Flitiwick answered as best as he could, having been raised in the wizarding world and not having much experience with many muggle practices. While he liked muggles and was not prejudiced against them, he enjoyed wizarding sports much more than muggle ones. "I was a duelist back in my younger years, so I can introduce you to that world if you're interested. Feel free to come to my office if you have any specific questions on which league you should join, my door is always open."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry nodded with a smile, before heading to the door. "I'll certainly think more about it. Have a nice day."

"No problem, Harry, same to you. Come to me anytime!" Flitwick grinned, watching as the younger wizard exited the classroom.

Harry walked down the hall with a pensive expression on his face. He was interested in a duelling career, something that would allow him to use his magic in a fun atmosphere, while also staying true to his talents. Besides being a teacher, there really weren't many careers that allowed him to do that without making him feel as if he was fighting for his life on a daily basis. However, he also knew that he would not be pursuing a career until after Voldemort was stopped, instead intending on using the gold he had left in his vault in Gringotts to fund him for the foreseeable future. He didn't know how long it would last, and he knew it probably wouldn't be that long, but he knew that it would be worth it in the end when the country was freed from Voldemort's evilness.

An hour later found Harry, Greta, and Xenophilius walking into the kitchens to meet Bellatrix for dinner. The elves bustled all around, welcoming them with large smiles and walking them to the table that was in the center of the room. Just as they sat down, the portrait swung open and Bellatrix entered, making her way towards them where she took her seat next to Harry and across from Xenophilius, completing the small table. They were piling food onto their respective plates when their gaze turned towards the portrait, where it opened once more to reveal a tall, handsome boy with long black hair making his way into the kitchens.

"What is he doing here?" Bellatrix questioned, looking over to Harry, assuming he had something to do with it. While she was okay with eating her dinner with Harry's friends and away from the Slytherin house, she didn't want to feel forced to eat with Sirius, whose company she did not enjoy all too much.

"I don't know, I swear," Harry whispered, hiding the smile that was trying to take shape on his face. He assumed that this was Sirius' way in taking the effort to help Bellatrix, something that the wizard said he wasn't entire sure if he would be willing to do just a few nights prior. Then, standing up, he welcomed Sirius with a gesture as he neared them, "Sirius, good to see you. How are you?"

"I'm good," Sirius said, walking over to the small group and giving them a once over with his grey gaze. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Having dinner," Harry said with a jovial smile, not hiding his appreciation of Sirius showing up any longer. "Why don't you join us?" Harry proposed, making Bellatrix's eyes go wide, seemingly angered by Harry's offer.

"Okay," Sirius replied tentatively, sitting down next to Greta and across from Harry.

"You know Greta, right?" Harry asked quizzically, which earned a nod and a smile of affirmation from Sirius. "And this is Xenophilius Lovegood."

"Pleasure," Xeno said, wiping his right hand on his robes and holding it out for Sirius to shake.

"It's all mine," Sirius replied, shaking Xeno's hand without problem, seemingly not worrying about how dirty it was. "I was wondering where you were during mealtime."

"We weren't trying to hide," Harry answered, knowing full well that the kitchens were on the Marauder's Map, allowing Sirius to scope them out at any given time. He watched as Sirius piled some food onto his plate and started to eat, apparently hungrier than anyone else at the table.

"Except from the Slytherins," Sirius returned astutely once he swallowed, his grey gaze flicking over to Bellatrix, who was staring down at her food, pushing it around her plate with her fork.

Bellatrix's head jerked up at that, her face morphing into a scowl. "Is there a problem with that?" Bellatrix hissed in response, meeting his gaze, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking she wouldn't fight back.

"That you're not around those dodgy mongers?" Sirius said before taking a bite of chicken, taking his time to chew it before continuing with what he was saying. "Not at all, it's nearly unbearable to be close to them in the Great Hall."

They went silent for a few moments, an uncomfortable quietness overcoming the group. "I take it you two don't like each other all too much," Greta opined, looking between Sirius and Bellatrix as the pair ate their dinner.

"Just family problems," Sirius answered with a shrug, not really thinking much of it. To him, if Bellatrix truly was willing to change, truly was trying to distance herself from her negative influences, then he was willing to help her, but that didn't mean they were always going to get along, just like most families. "In her eyes, I'm a pretentious do-gooder rebel that thinks I'm better than her because I'm not a Slytherin and I don't hold the familial ideals."

"And I'm an arrogant, coldhearted, and downright wicked witch that would do anything to get power in his mind," Bellatrix added, having a full understanding of what Sirius thought about her.

"And they're both wrong," Harry grinned, not at all angry with what Sirius or Bellatrix said about the other—it was probably true on some levels. "As I am sure they will both see over time." Under the table, Harry reached and took Bellatrix's hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze of assurance, hoping to show her that he was there for her no matter who it was that she was fighting.

Greta nodded in understanding, seeing in Harry's eyes that it was probably best to just go with it and not think anything of the pair's dislike of one another. "So what is everybody doing over the break?" Greta asked, hoping to make some light conversation and ease the tension that had formed.

"Going to Edgar's wedding like you are?" Xenophilius replied confusedly, not understanding how Greta forgot about the wedding.

"You're going to the wedding every single day?" Greta said with a laugh, rolling her eyes in amusement at Xenophilius' answer.

"Oh," Xenophilius nodded, returning to his food, unembarrassed by his foolish response.

"Master Dumbledore," A squeaky voice said from behind Harry before anyone else could answer Greta's question, making the wizard turn to see who it was.

Harry's gaze was met with the large green, pear-shaped eyes of a house elf, one that he had become familiar with over the last few months. "Bustle!" Harry smiled down at the elf, happy to see his short friend.

"You told Bustle to say hi if Bustle ever saw you, so Bustle followed your orders," Bustle said proudly, holding his chest outwards as if he had accomplished a great thing.

"I said if you ever want to say hi, not that you had to say hi to me on command, Bustle," Harry laughed, realizing that he should have been more clear in what he said so Bustle didn't take it the wrong way. "But hi Bustle, how are you?"

"Bustle is doing well, sir, and how is master?" Bustle replied, staring up at Harry with wide, innocent eyes.

"It's Harry, Bustle," Harry corrected, feeling a bit unnerved by Bustle calling him master. "I am doing great, thank you." Then, looking at the rest of the group, whom all had various looks of amusement on their faces, he gestured to his friends. "I want you to meet some people, Bustle."

"Master Harry is introducing Bustle to his friends!" Bustle yelled out happily, thrilled that Harry wanted to talk to him more. Harry squirmed at the mention of master once more, but since Bustle had added the Harry, he was okay with it for the time being—eventually he would get the house elf to stop.

"This is Greta and Xenophilius," Harry said, pointing towards the witch and wizard respectively. "And these two are Blacks, Sirius and Bellatrix; they are cousins to your former master."

"Former master?" Sirius asked with a confused look on his face, not knowing which member of the Black family Harry was referencing. There were a lot of Blacks with house elves, though most of the members of the family beheaded the elves, rather than set them free, which made Bustle's freedom quite curious in Sirius' mind.

"He was Lycoris' elf," Bellatrix informed him, turning her attention from Bustle to Sirius for a moment. Sirius furrowed his brows at what Bellatrix had said, apparently surprised by that revelation.

"Bustle is so happy to meet good Blacks like his master was!" Bustle said cheerfully, bowing deeply to Sirius and Bellatrix as a sign of respect. "Bustle hasn't spoken to a Black in a long, long time."

"Ah, thanks," Sirius replied politely, a bit perplexed by Bustle's comments. Lycoris was a good Black? How come he never knew about that? He had checked the family tapestry a few times before he left for good, but he knew for a fact that Lycoris' name was still there and that it hadn't been burned off like Andromeda's, Alphard's, his own, or the few other Blacks that had angered the family in some form or another. Instead, like all the other Blacks, Lycoris was still on there in bright lettering for all to see.

"Bustle's sorry, but he must get back to cleaning now, sir," Bustle said, looking over to Harry, clearly disappointed that he couldn't stay longer.

"It's okay, Bustle, I understand," Harry nodded, putting his hand on Bustle's shoulder. "I'll see you soon, right?"

"Yes!" Bustle chirped, before bowing and walking back over to the other elves, presumably to resume his work.

"Sorry, Xenophilius, but I think Bustle is Harry's best friend," Greta teased with a grin, having watched the interaction interestedly. She knew from her experience that very few wizards in the wizarding world took time to talk to an elf, let alone speak to the elf with such respect that Harry had done with Bustle, so to see Harry do it filled her with even more respect for him than she had before.

"I think you're right," Bellatrix agreed, elbowing Harry gently in the ribs. Harry rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Bellatrix, before giving her a wide grin when she just stared right back at him, challenging him to prove her wrong. "Exactly." She said, making everyone at the table laugh.

A half an hour or so later, Bellatrix was leaving the kitchens in order to go to her monthly Head Boy and Girl meeting with the Headmaster. Harry finished up his own dinner, eating chocolate pudding for dessert, before rising from the table and walking out with everyone. "So why didn't you eat dinner with James and the rest tonight?" Harry questioned after he and Sirius said goodbye to Greta and Xenophilius.

"James is a little peeved with me at the moment," Sirius laughed, though it wasn't as happy of a laugh as it normally would be. Instead, it had a hint of awkwardness in it, as if Sirius was uncomfortable with the situation, though Harry did not know why.

"Why is that?" Harry asked, wondering what was wrong between the two good friends.

"I played a joke on Snape a few days ago that he didn't approve," Sirius answered with a shrug, seemingly disinterested in talking about it.

"What was the joke?" Harry inquired, curious as to what kind of joke would make his father angry enough to not speak to Sirius for a couple of days. From what he knew about the pair, they were inseparable and found ways to always be in contact with one another when they weren't together, so to hear that they weren't talking to each other was surprising to Harry.

"It was stupid, I admit that," Sirius sighed, shaking his head, not wanting to reveal the prank.

Harry shifted his gaze over to the younger wizard as they walked, having a pensive expression on his face all the while. He thought he knew what trick it was that Sirius was talking about: he thought it was telling Snape how to enter the tunnel under the Whomping Willow on the night of the full moon that he had heard about from Sirius in his own time, though he couldn't know for sure since he had no idea what year in Hogwarts that had actually happened. "Yeah, well," Harry started with a shrug, not knowing what to say with such little information. "I'm sure he'll get over it eventually."

"He better hurry then," Sirius laughed loudly, seeing the humor in the situation. "I'm spending Easter with him and his folks."

"Yeah, that's cutting it kind of tight," Harry grinned, hoping it all worked out quickly enough, not wanting Sirius or his father to be upset at the other. "If you want to get away from him over break, feel free to owl me. I'd be willing to meet up."

"Thanks," Sirius nodded, appreciating the gesture from Harry. "I'll be sure to do that." He said, not knowing if he would take Harry up on the offer, but keeping it as an option in case things didn't go as he planned.

"See you, Sirius," Harry said as he started to walk down the hall, heading towards the entrance to Dumbledore's office, knowing that the Gryffindor tower was in the opposite direction.

"Bye Dumbledore," Sirius waved, turning around and heading towards the staircase that would bring him up to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

Harry arrived at Dumbledore's office just as Frank and Bellatrix were exiting. After talking with Frank for a few moments, and receiving a wink from Bellatrix, Harry walked up the stairs and gave a knock on the wooden door. He heard the muffled response and opened the door, entering the office and closing the door behind him. "Hello, sir," Harry said as he took a seat in his usual chair, across from the great wizard.

"Harry, welcome, welcome," Dumbledore smiled, happy to see the younger wizard. "I hope this doesn't take you out of your studying too much."

"No, don't worry," Harry replied, waving Dumbledore's fears off. "I needed the break anyway."

"Well, to make sure that doesn't happen, I was hoping to keep tonight shorter than many of our other nights have been in the past," Dumbledore said, not wanting to take Harry away from his schoolwork at such a critical time. It was almost over for Harry, and what he learned now would be quite important to his future, serving as the foundation of his career prospects.

"That's fine," Harry agreed, guessing that Dumbledore wouldn't relent on the matter. "I guess I'll be learning that magic next time after break then?" He suggested to the Headmaster with a smile, making sure Dumbledore remembered his promise.

"Of course," Dumbledore returned with a nod, willing to teach Harry whatever the boy wanted to learn.

"If that's the case, then how about we just talk about something that's been on my mind over the past few days?" Harry recommended, having a few questions running through his brain that he wanted to see if the Headmaster could answer.

"What is that?" Dumbledore inquired curiously, hopeful for another productive and interesting conversation. He used his time with Harry to settle his mind, to have some fun in his life, which was mostly spent leading the Order of the Phoenix and preventing Voldemort from gaining more power, which was highly stressful, even for him.

"The other Merlin," Harry answered, furrowing his brows as he spoke, his voice quiet. "According to muggle myth and legend, Merlin was a cambion."

"A cambion? A what now?" Dumbledore questioned, not recognizing the term as something he had ever come across. While he was better read than many in the world, he was not all knowing, and some forms of knowledge he was ignorant on as much as anyone else.

"A cambion, you know, a half-demon, it's a half-incubus, half-mortal person, sir," Harry replied, filling Dumbledore in on what the word meant. "It's a term from muggle myth. Merlin's father was an incubbus, and his mother was a human or a witch, more likely."

"Is that incorporated into muggle myth? I never knew that, thank you," Dumbledore shrugged, happy to have learned something new from Harry. After all, in his opinion it was when a person stopped learning that a person stopped living.

"Really?" Harry surprised by that, having always presumed there wasn't much that Dumbledore didn't know. "You may not be able to answer, but I was wondering, which Merlin was a half-something to elicit the myth? Was it Merlin or Myrrdin?"

"You're right: I don't know as what little we know about each Merlin does not go into detail of their parentage. However, if I had to make a guess, if that one really did come from truth rather than just a later fabrication, I would say that it was Myrddin who was what you call a cambion," Dumbledore supposed, not knowing one way or the other, but taking an educated guess based upon what he knew about both of the wizards. "I assume it was him because when he lived, in the early sixth century, the world was very different and legend has it that male veela-like beings were still around Great Britain. They were the incubi from myth, before being slaughtered for bedding the wives of nobility in continental Europe, and were forced to retreat to Great Britain for safety only to be slaughtered once more after arriving. That would actually make the title of 'Prince of Enchanters' work for both Merlin's if Myrddin was a half-cambion, or rather half-incubi, which as you know from the veelas, could enchant people. Plus, while we know very little about the later Merlin, we know even less about Myrddin."

Harry raised an eyebrow at what Dumbledore had said, surprised by the fact that there were once male veela—as far as he knew, all veela were female, and any male born to a veela or a part veela was simply a wizard. "Male veela? I had no idea they even existed."

"They were akin to male veela, but they don't exist anymore," Dumbledore corrected, making sure he was truthful in his statements. "Ancient texts show that there were more wonderful creatures and beings in the world than what we know to exist today, but they were hunted out of existence, unfortunately. It's a shame, to see so many precious and wondrous animals and beings taken from this world."

"That is a shame," Harry agreed, having witnessed firsthand the cruelty that people held towards animals during his third year, when the Malfoys went on a vendetta to have Buckbeak killed just because Draco approached him in a perceived threatening manner and Buckbeak reacted to protect himself. "So what about Myrddin? What else do you know about his life, if anything?" Harry asked interestedly, fascinated at the fact that Myrddin was potentially the son of a male veela.

Dumbledore shook his head, and said, "Just that he was counsel to the people, whether they were commoners or kings, a seer, a magizoologist, and a potionmaker, who once helped a warlord trick a wife of a duke into sleeping with him by creating a potion that could change his appearance into that of her husband. Through various evolutions that would come later, that potion eventually became what we know as the polyjuice potion."

"King Arthur's birth?" Harry opined, recognizing the story from the Merlin of myth. What are the chances that the two similar stories weren't one and the same?

"Or the person who inspired the stories of King Arthur," Dumbledore nodded, realizing that was the more likely scenario. It was very doubtful that an actual man named Arthur Pendragon did all the deeds that King Arthur was said to have done; rather it was probably just a story based upon a particularly great king, or many great kings amalgamated into one, that was magnified for legend, but the actual king was not as great as Arthur was portrayed.

"Interesting," Harry whispered, thinking over what he knew about Merlin. It was fascinating to him, having a name that many people used on a daily basis but not knowing anything about the namesake, a fact that showed just how uninterested most of the wizarding world was in learning more about magic after they left Hogwarts.

"The only thing else I know about either Merlin is that Merlin Ambrose, the Hogwarts one, was, as legend has it, the first born child of the new millennium, being born at the stroke of midnight on January 1, 1000." Dumbledore sighed, realizing his knowledge on the subject had just reached its end—whatever else Harry said on the matter would be new territory for him.

"Wouldn't 1001 be the first year of the millennium?" Harry questioned back, raising his eyebrow all the while.

Dumbledore smiled at that, recognizing the old debate of when a century or a millennium actually starts. Since there was no year 0, people couldn't help but question whether the year 1000 was the last year of the first millennium or the first year of the second. "I'm fairly certain that's an argument that will never be finished."

"Either way, that's a pretty cool legend," Harry murmured, believing it to be pretty special to be the first born in the century. After all, how many in history could say that they were the first born of a brand new age? Then, recalling that the Norman Invasion took place in 1066, he said, "So he was 66 when he was imprisoned in the cave by Nimue?"

"Yes, he accomplished a lot for being relatively so young, no?" Dumbledore opined, truly impressed by Merlin's magical deeds. Many people took a lifetime to achieve one thing as great as Merlin had, yet the wizard was able to accomplish dozens of deeds that would allow any other wizard to stake a claim of fame.

"Obviously he did, yes," Harry nodded, but then furrowed his brow, wanting to compare Dumbledore to Merlin at the same age. "But how much had you accomplished by that age?"

"If you want me to answer honestly," Dumbledore said with a mischievous tone to his voice, allowing himself to partake in an honest conversation about his achievements. "I was nearing the same age when I confronted the dark wizard Grindelwald and became known as the wizard that many think of me as being."

"…The greatest in the world?" Harry added with an amused expression on his face, admiring Dumbledore's humility. "You were 65, nearing 66 when the duel happened?" Harry asked, quickly doing the math in his mind, trying to figure out when Dumbledore was born. "That means you were born in 1879?"

"I had just turned 64 at the time; I was born on August 11, 1881," Dumbledore informed him, revealing that he was much younger than Harry had believed him to be up until that point in time. To Harry, Dumbledore was older than a mere 96 years, closer to 150 years old, but still someone who would never be as old as his wisdom implied him to be.

"You're almost exactly a century older than me," Harry smiled, quipping how much older Dumbledore was to him.

"Not anymore I'm not," Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head in the negative. "If you recall, you're now born in 1959." He teased, making the point that Harry now had a new birth date than he did in his own time.

"Touché," Harry said while shaking his head in amusement, a jolly look on his face all the while.

"Either way, fifty to ninety is the prime of a wizard or a witch, where your magic, your mind, and your body are at their strongest. It's a good age," Dumbledore opined, his gaze looking over to the various knickknacks that he had around the office, keepsakes and objects he had gathered throughout his long lifetime.

"I look forward to experiencing it," Harry said quietly as he rose to his feet, remembering that Dumbledore wanted to keep the night short.

"Don't look forward to it too much, enjoy your youthfulness," Dumbledore replied, recalling the fond memories he created in his youth working alongside Nicholas Flammel, experiences that he wouldn't trade for the world.

"I will. Good night, Professor, I'll see you after the break," Harry said, turning and walking away from the older wizard.

"Good luck on your exams, Harry," Dumbledore responded, watching as Harry made his way to the door. "Have a great holiday!"

"Thank you, sir, I wish you the same," Harry nodded, before turning the knob, opening the door, and stepping out onto the stairway. Just as Harry exited the room, Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked through the portal to his personal chamber, never seeing the portrait of an old headmaster walk out of his own portrait in an effort to chase down the wizard that had just left the office.

Harry closed the office door behind him, before walking down the stairs to the hallway below. He slowly made his way towards the Ravenclaw common room, not in any particular hurry, knowing that most of his friends would be studying for the entirety of the night. "Harry!" A voice called weakly after the wizard as he walked by a portrait of an sixteenth century vampire.

"Who's there?" Harry questioned, looking all around him but not seeing anybody. "Hello?" He said more loudly, wondering if it was a ghost that called out to him. He remembered one time hearing a voice say his name when he first arrived in the past, but when he awoke from his nap, no one was there and he briefly wondered whether this was the same situation.

"Over here," said the same voice from before, earning Harry's attention and drawing his gaze to the portrait hanging on the wall. He saw that the voice was of a wizard, who was ancient and clever looking with long brown robes and amber eyes.

"You're one of the Headmasters!" Harry exclaimed, recognizing the man from a few weeks prior when he spoke up for the first time about Merlin.

"Yes, Canute Kneen, Hogwarts' seventh Headmaster," Former Headmaster Kneen said, introducing himself once more while bowing slightly.

"How can I help you?" Harry inquired, wondering what he owed this visit for since it wasn't everyday that an ancient headmaster tracked him down in the halls.

"Help me? Oh, no, my dear boy, I came to help you…" Kneen corrected in amusement, before his countenance became more serious.

Harry gave Kneen a confused look, not understanding what the wizard could do for him. "How so?" He questioned, taking a step closer to the portrait in order to better hear him.

"Last week, Albus only told you half the story about the Norman invasion and the changes that it had on the British wizarding world," Canute Kneen started, exiting the vampire portrait he was in and taking his place inside a portrait next to it of a witch from the 1300s, whom seemed to have had willingly moved aside so the man could talk. "I thought he would continue with it tonight, but he didn't and I noticed that you were interested in it, so I wanted to fill in the rest."

"What did he leave out?" Harry questioned curiously, wondering what could be so important about the story that Kneen would catch up to Harry on his own accord.

"There's more to the story of William's invasion when it comes to the wizarding world," Kneen started, wanting to inform Harry on the profound effect that the invasion had on the country, effects that lasted even to the day. "When invading England, William brought with him a score of wizards, each powerful and desiring the gifts promised to them by William in return of their services. His group included Armand Malfoy, the leader of the wizarding contingent, Viviane Nimue, Hugues Rosier, Bruce Aubrey, Vernon Avery, Harold de Lapin, Leveret de Lapin, Aveline Hewett, Rasalgol Lestrange, Algernon Tancred, Corbe le Normand, Joyce Debonaire, Henry Fort Escu, Gervaise Barnaud, Eustacia le Erratique, Melisende Prince, Eduard de Gaunt, Aimeri Lescermissur, Ranulf le Renard, and William Peverell, whom King William had taken as his personal liaison between him and the wizardkind. While some, admittedly, joined out of some form of loyalty to their duke and had no evil intent in their battle, most just showed a sorry display of greed, willingly killing their own kind just to receive the riches they so thoroughly desired."

Harry went over the names, unsurprised that some were the surnames of many Death Eaters, whom apparently had not diverged from the ways of their ancestors in the past. Malfoy, Avery, Rosier, Lestrange were all names of Death Eaters that he knew from personal experience, each of whom he imagined were descendants of the ones alluded to that showed a sorry display of greed by joining William in the invasion. Meanwhile, he had no idea about some of the other names, names like Tancred and Debonair and Lescermissur, surnames that he had never seen in any book, which made him assume that they were ones that returned to Norman after the conquest and played more of a role in the French wizarding society, rather than the English one.

Other names stuck out to him as well for different reasons such as Henry Fort Escu, whose descendants he imagined would become the Fortescue family since the name was the same. Bruce Aubrey was another name that made Harry raise an eyebrow, instinctively wondering if he was of any relation to his friend, Bertram Aubrey. Lapin was also a name that intrigued him, remembering that there was once a Lisette de Lapin in France during the fifteenth century, the witch that many think served as the inspiration for the Babbity Rabbity character in Beedle the Bard's story. The final name that he couldn't help but be intrigued by was William Peverell, whom through his research, he had come to find out had brought the Peverell name to England with him and had started the Peverell family that would one day include the three brothers of Deathly Hallow lore.

"The ironic thing is that some of them weren't even Norman, only ten or so of them were," Kneen said, grabbing Harry's attention once more. "That's where the real shame is: they were willing to kill their kind for a king they wouldn't even be ruled by."

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned, shaking out of his thought induced stupor.

"The others were French, but Rasalgol Lestrange was a Moorish wizard, not a Norman one," Kneen answered, trying to recall as much as he could—he didn't know as much as his former self did when he was alive, but he knew enough that he could get by. "He had been paid by someone in the Norman high society to teach the other Norman wizardkind a specific spell, a spell so evil that barely anyone in Britain at the time had ever heard of it or dreamed of it, bar the founders and one other, that other? Merlin himself."

"What was the spell?" Harry questioned back curiously, having no idea what spell the former Headmaster could be referencing. Obviously it was a curse since it was evil, but it couldn't be a curse that Harry knew, could it?

"One that you now know of as the Killing Curse," Kneen answered solemnly, having seen the evil of the spell firsthand. He witnessed many deaths that were caused by the green light of the curse, and understood that many witches and wizards fell to their deaths because they were ignorant of its abilities and didn't know that it couldn't be stopped by a Shield Charm.

"Rasalgol Lestrange brought that over?" Harry scowled, thinking back to what he learned from Professor Moonshine's lecture on the Killing Curse, which agreed with Kneen's assessment that it was the Norman Invasion that brought along that perverse magic into Great Britain.

"They called him the strange one because his practices and spells were different than the other Normans and French, hence the moniker being taken as a surname. Anyway, he taught them a few things that he learned in his homeland and Northern Africa, and came over with them, knowing that he would have a chance for eternal riches if he did." Kneen finished with a sigh, not really comprehending how a wizard could sell out another wizard for material gain. To him, all wizards were wizards and no one should be fighting another wizard.

"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, having a sinking suspicion that this was first hand knowledge and not something that Kneen learned through speaking with others about it.

"I was at the battle, I fought alongside my comrades in defending the land," Kneen replied, confirming Harry's beliefs. "It wasn't until after the invasion did I become the Headmaster."

Seeing an opportunity to gather much needed information, Harry bit his lip, wondering if he could be so lucky. "William Peverell, do you have anymore information on him?"

"No, but I know someone who would. Follow me," Kneen said, exiting the portrait he was in and walking through the following ones, with Harry keeping his eyes on the former Headmaster as he went. They walked and walked, up levels and down halls, passing by numerous portraits that seemed like they were as old as Hogwarts itself. Finally, they arrived at a large frame that had a desk and a fireplace with a roaring fire, but no occupant. "He's not here it seems," Kneen sighed, disappointed that he wouldn't be able to continue the conversation with Harry.

"Who is it?" Harry questioned, having never seen that portrait before as it was in an area of Hogwarts he rarely traversed.

"Elmar Prince," Kneen replied distractedly, looking around the area in an effort to find his friend. He knew that sometimes Elmar liked to go and talk to his old friends in other parts of the castle, and he wondered if that was the situation in this case.

Harry's mind immediately jumped at the Prince name, wondering if it was any relation to the various members of the Prince family that he had read in his efforts to research the Deathly Hallows. "Where is he?"

"He probably went to go and visit a friend, but got lost and can't find his way back to his portrait," Kneen said in a serious tone, making Harry wonder whether it was a joke or not. "That, or he fell asleep in one of his other portraits and has not woken up yet, which is common at our age. I'll keep my eye out for him, but if anyone has the information you seek, it would be him."

"Thank you so much, Professor," Harry said politely, thankful for the help that the old wizard had given him. "I'll be sure to keep you informed if I see him in his portrait in the future." With that, Harry turned and walked back to the Ravenclaw common room, hoping that he would get to speak with Elmar Prince one day in the future.

Eventually, it was Friday, the last day of classes before Easter break. For many, it involved Easter exams for all courses, which would only take about a half an hour to an hour for each course. Since Harry was only enrolled in five classes, he could complete his exams in a single day, while some others had started to take them the day prior due to their course load. Plus, since Herbology did not have an Easter exam, Harry had some extra time to study for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions, and what would be the hardest of them all, Charms. He still had yet to complete the Protean Charm satisfactorily, but he hoped having the adrenaline of the exam running through him would help him a bit and allow him to transcend his limits just enough to get a high grade.

After passing the ten question exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts, meeting expectations in transfiguring Bertram into a raven for Transfiguration (and being transfigured into an acceptable horse by Bertram in return), and concocting a passable Draught of Living Death for Potions, Harry found himself standing in front of Professor Flitwick in his Charms class, all set to try the Protean Charm, already having two fake galleons in front of him. He gripped his wand, ran it over the galleons, and muttered, "Proteus Mercurie."

Both of the coins glowed white for a second, before they dimmed down and returned to their natural state. He picked up one of the galleons and touched the tip of his wand down onto the other, hoping that it would feel warm to the touch. While it didn't happen as quickly as he expected, eventually the coin in his hand did indeed burn white hot, signaling that he had correctly performed the spell, albeit not perfectly. Satisfied with his attempt, he took a step back from his work and allowed Flitwick to study it, holding his breath all the while.

Flitwick ran his gaze over the two galleons, poking at it with his wand as he muttered some unknown spell. He picked both of the galleons up into his hands and brought them closer to his eyes in an effort to make sure they appeared just as normal galleons, before placing them back down on the desk. "It needs some work, but it exceeds expectations," Flitwick nodded approvingly, okay with the attempt from Harry. "You have work to do for your N.E.W.T exam, so be sure to relax during your break so you're ready to study hard for the next few months when you come back, okay?"

"Thank you!" Harry grinned, thrilled that he had received a passing grade, even if it wasn't perfect.

"Have a nice holiday," Flitwick smiled, turning around and walking over to his desk, before calling out the next student to come and take the exam.

Still feeling the joy of his success, Harry rushed out of the room wearing his large grin, bouncing through the hallways and up the stairs until he reached his bedroom in the Ravenclaw tower. Once he arrived, he placed his bag down next to his bed and fell on top of it, bringing his hands up behind his head as he relaxed for a bit. "How'd you do?" Gaspard asked, staring at Harry interestedly as he practiced his charm on his own bed on the opposite side of the room.

"I got an exceeded expectations," Harry chirped happily, not at all perturbed by not receiving an outstanding. Unlike many of the other Ravenclaws, who ruthlessly tried to attain the perfect grade, Harry was wholly willing to accept whatever grade he received, so long as he knew that he had tried his hardest, which he did during the Charms exam.

"Nice, congratulations," Gaspard smiled, impressed by Harry's accomplishment, knowing that the Protean Charm was a difficult one to perform and anything better than acceptable was quite an achievement for most people. "I hope I get the same."

"You'll get better than that, don't be modest," Harry replied, feeling that it was probably true and that Gaspard would indeed get an outstanding. "When are you going?"

"I figure I have about fifteen minutes before I start heading down there," Gaspard said with a shrug, before sighing and placing his book on his bed, done practicing for the time being.

Gaspard left a few minutes after that, leaving only Harry and Bertram in the room. Seeing the time, Harry got up from his bed and started to pack his things up in an effort to be ready for the train ride to London. Bertram watched Harry for a few moments, inwardly trying to muster the courage to say what he wanted to say. "Harry, can I ask you something?" Bertram finally questioned, looking away from Harry as the wizard started to change out of his robes.

"What's up?" Harry asked back, pausing for a moment. He looked over to Bertram and immediately noticed that the boy had a strange look on his face, one that showed a bit of intimidation.

Bertram opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find the words, but none came. Then, deciding to just be blunt, he said, "Are we going to be friends after Hogwarts?"

"Sure, why wouldn't we?" Harry replied confusedly, not understanding where that question was coming from. He thought of Bertram as a friend, of course he would be continue to be friends with him once they left Hogwarts.

"Because we haven't seen each other outside of Hogwarts ever," Bertram said quietly, saddened by that realization. While he had seen Gaspard, Derrick, and a couple of other Hogwarts acquaintances, he had yet to see Harry, which to him pointed to them losing touch once school was over.

"I didn't know you wanted to hang out," Harry answered honestly, having never been approached by Bertram before then. "I thought you were better friends with Gaspard and Derrick."

"No," Bertram shook his head in the negative, not really being close to the other occupants of their room going on a few years. "We're friends, but they think I'm an idiot deep down inside so they stick with each other more often than not."

"They're crazy," Harry laughed mirthlessly, not seeing any evidence that supported that conclusion. Sure, he was a prankster that wanted to have fun, but still, he was capable of great rational deductions when it came down to it. "Of course you're smart, why else would you be in Ravenclaw?"

Bertram snorted loudly at that, as if he didn't quite agree with Harry's statement. "They don't just put you in Ravenclaw because you're smart, you know; there's another reason I'm in Ravenclaw than that. But anyway, with you and Xenophilius being so close, I didn't know if there would be room for me. I like you, Harry, you're a good guy, and with Hogwarts ending soon…"

"You're going home for the break, right?" Harry questioned, earning a confused nod from Bertram. "Then you'll sit with us on the train. That's that." Harry finished as he walked over to his trunk and grabbed a change of clothes. "I'm going to go take a shower and get ready for the trip, but you're not an idiot, Bertram. You're very astute. You're fun and goofy, but you're very astute. Don't forget that."

Two hours later found Harry and his friends boarding the Hogwarts Express for their break, taking an empty compartment in the middle of the train for themselves. After stowing away their personal items, they took their seats, with Xenophilius, Harry, and Greta sitting on one side, and Bertram and Milton sitting on the other. They didn't talk much, instead waiting for the train to start its journey before exhausting all of their conversation. Eventually, the train lurched forward and before long, it was speeding out of Hogsmeade Station. They didn't know how long it had been since the train started to move, but a knock at the door drew their attention.

"Any room for me?" Bellatrix asked as she entered the cabin to the great surprise of Bertram, who looked at her with wide eyes.

"Of course," Harry nodded, watching as Xenophilius rose from his seat and went to the other side, allowing Bellatrix to sit next to Harry.

"I can only stay for a few minutes," Bellatrix said, as she took her seat and crossed her legs in front of her. "I have to head back to the front cart with Frank eventually."

"Then I'll just have to get my money's worth," Harry grinned, running his hand over her arm, before taking her hand into his own. "Bellatrix, you know Bertram, don't you?" Harry inquired, looking over to his Ravenclaw friend across from him, who had a bemused expression on his face.

"You may remember him as the boy that had the potion explode in his face years ago," Xenophilius said nonchalantly, looking down at the book that was opened in his lap.

"I do recall that incident, yes," Bellatrix nodded, as a smirk appeared on her face, making Bertram blush in embarrassment.

"How'd you all do on your exams?" Greta asked as the train started to roll through the countryside. She couldn't tell how they did by their faces alone, with them all wearing a neutral expression or looking slightly happy, though she reasoned that it could be an effect of the break that they were now on, rather than their results.

"Bertram transfigured me into a horse," Harry laughed, recalling his Transfiguration exam. "I almost kicked McGonagall in the face."

"Knocked over her entire desk in the process," Bertram agreed with a chuckle, having perhaps made Harry too much of a horse during his exam. "It was the highlight of my day. Other than that, I did okay; not great, but they're only Easter exams."

Greta smiled at the idea of Harry being a horse, finding the thought of the wizard having a mane and neighing quite amusing. "Well, good for you, at least you know how to do better for the N.E.W.T.s now, right?"

"Hopefully," Bertram nodded, though not really sure how he would do on his N.E.W.T.s, regardless of his success or lack there of in regards to his Easter exams.

"There aren't many people on the train," Bellatrix said conversationally to Harry, though the entire compartment heard her.

"It's safest in Hogwarts, and the only ones leaving are the half-bloods and a few purebloods," Xenophilius opined, seeing the fear that gripped many due to Voldemort's war. "Purebloods don't want to be attacked for being blood traitors and muggleborns don't want to risk their families being attacked for being muggles."

"It's the reason why Gaspard and Derrick didn't leave," Bertram informed them, having spoken to the pair before leaving Hogwarts. "My family didn't want me to leave either, but since we're graduating Hogwarts in a few months anyway, I told them that it doesn't really matter anymore, I'll have to enter the real world sooner or later."

"It must be tough," Harry whispered as his eyes drifted over to the window, losing himself in thoughts about Voldemort. He knew that it was coming close to the time when he would be joining the fray against Voldemort, something that he had been forbidden to do by Dumbledore. However, as his Hogwarts life neared its end, the mission to destroy the Dark Lord was approaching sooner and sooner, and deep down inside, he knew he would be ready for it and would be able to face it head on.

"As a Dumbledore, your family is safe, right, Harry?" Milton questioned, seeing the look on Harry's face and misinterpreting as fear, rather than resolve. It was a well regarded opinion that the reason why Hogwarts was safe was because of Dumbledore, so he assumed that the Dumbledore family was viewed as a threat by Voldemort and would therefore be in danger.

"Outside of all of you at Hogwarts, including my great uncle, and Edgar, I don't have any family," Harry said quietly, turning his gaze to Milton. "So yes, my family is safe."

"You don't? But I thought you had mentioned them at one point or another," Greta questioned confusedly, not remembering Harry reveal to them about not having family.

"I lied," Harry smiled innocently, deciding that he would tell a partial truth—that he was an orphan and that his family had been killed by Voldemort. "Not out of maliciousness, just…you know. My family was murdered by the Dark Lord."

"You mean, by the Death Eaters?" Bertram asked, a look of horror on his face, having never known that Harry had suffered like that. He remembered when he had mentioned that his family had been almost attacked back at one of the feasts—instead it had been his neighbors that were attacked by the Death Eaters—and instantly Harry had been the first to make sure they were okay, which made Bertram feel so insensitive to Harry's past in retrospect.

"No, I mean Voldemort…" Harry started, but paused when there was a gasp at the name by everyone in the compartment except for Bellatrix.

"Don't say his name!" Milton scowled, his eyes moving all about, shivering at the thought of the Dark Lord appearing in front of them.

"Get off it, it's a name," Harry sighed exasperatedly, before returning to his story. "Anyway, Voldemort literally walked into my house and killed my mother and father."

"Is that why you came to Hogwarts?" Xenophilius questioned, having always had a sinking suspicion that there was more to Harry than he let on.

"You could say that," Harry agreed with a nod, not wanting to reveal that he came back in time to the entire group. He would reveal it to Edgar and Xenophilius soon, but he did not feel comfortable telling the others just yet.

"I'm sorry, man, that's awful," Bertram replied sorrowfully, a lump in his throat as feelings of sadness for his friend's loss bellowed up inside of him. He didn't know if he would even be able to continue on living if his parents had been murdered by the Dark Lord, which made him respect Harry's inner strength.

"No worries," Harry smiled, not having meant to ruin the mood. It was not his intention to receive pity or condolences from them, but rather to just tell them an aspect of himself that he had kept hidden up until that point.

"I take it you knew about this, Bellatrix?" Greta asked the other witch in the compartment, leaning over to look by Harry.

"Yeah, we've talked about it before," Bellatrix replied quietly, not wanting to reveal anything more than what Harry wanted to reveal. She knew his entire story, whereas the rest were just scratching the surface of it.

The compartment went silent for a few moments, before they each broke away into individual conversations. Harry and Bellatrix quietly talked about their plans for the week, intending on doing things together in order to further their relationship. Harry wanted to search for a place to live, knowing that he couldn't stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of his life—he needed a place where he could build a life. It was something that he had been putting off for a while, but he knew he couldn't continue to do that for much longer or else he'd be living on the street.

"Does anyone have any food?" Milton eventually questioned as his stomach rumbled. Then, looking at the group, he frowned, realizing that he had probably interrupted everyone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your conversations."

"I think I do…" Bertram said, reaching into his bag and rummaging around for something at the bottom. "Yeah, I have these." He said, handing over a bag of candy to Milton.

"What are those?" Greta questioned interestedly, having never seen them before.

"Ivey Canaday's new product," Bertram answered, filling the group in on what the rising star in the magical candy industry had just released. "They're like gummy bears, or gummy animals rather, but they come to life like chocolate frogs."

"Gummy bears?" Xenophilius questioned, as Milton offered everyone an animal. Only Greta and Xenophilius took one, leaving the rest of the pack for Milton.

"A muggle candy, kind of like gelatine," Harry answered, filling the pureblood in on the treat. Next to him, Greta looked down at her gummy snake, which hissed up at her as she held it in her hands. "_Be nice now_," Harry instinctively hissed back at the candy snake, making the cabin look at him in great surprise. "What?" Harry questioned, seeing their lingering gazes.

"You're a parselmouth?" Milton gasped with wide eyes as he stared at Harry, disbelieving of that revelation. He had never met a parselmouth before in his life, and from what he knew, the ability was a sign of a deeply dark wizard.

"Oh," Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. _Apparently I'm full of revelations today,_ he thought to himself. "Yeah, you didn't know that?"

"No," They all shook their heads, staring at Harry a bit differently as if seeing him for the first time.

Noticing their gazes, Harry cocked an eyebrow, inwardly wondering what was wrong. "What, now you're all scared of me or something?" He asked, hoping he was misinterpreting their expressions.

"I actually just wanted to know what you said," Xenophilius whispered, which earned a smile from Harry.

"I told it to be nice," Harry answered, having come to count on Xenophilius being someone that didn't judge. In that regard, he was much different than either Hermione or Ron, who both were fairly judgemental in their own right.

"We're not scared of you, just surprised, that's all," Greta said, taking Harry's hand and giving it a squeeze as she smiled up at him. "I've known you for nearly two years, seen you nearly everyday, and I had no idea you were a parselmouth."

"I wasn't trying to hide it," Harry replied honestly, having never really had the opportunity to show them his parseltongue ability—it wasn't something that he liked to use a lot. "It just never came up. I'm sorry."

"You're the first one I've ever met," Bertram muttered in an amused tone, sighing in exasperation. "So you can fly better than anyone in the school and you're a parselmouth? Merlin, you're lucky."

"Not lucky," Harry shook his head in the negative. "I have my parents to thank for the flying thing, and fate for the parseltongue thing." He said evenly, not illuminating the group any further on what he meant. "Keep all of this between us, yeah?" Harry questioned, earning a nod from everyone in the compartment, each promising that his secrets were safe with them.

A few minutes later, the group was once more engrossed in various conversations, and when Bellatrix realized the time, she got to her feet. "So you do have some darkness inside of you," Bellatrix whispered with a grin, as she collected herself to leave. "I'll see you later." She said, before stepping out of the compartment and closing the door behind her, presumably having to complete her Head Girl duties.

Bertram watched the door close, and then turned his attention over to Harry, who noticed his gaze. "So are you two, like, together?" Bertram questioned interestedly, wanting to know what was going on between the pair.

"Yes," Harry answered, raising an eyebrow, curious as to what Bertram thought about that fact.

"Were you together when I made that joke about her being Head Girl at the beginning of the year?" Bertram said worriedly, hoping he didn't offend Harry with his comment.

"Not quite together, but we were close, yeah," Harry again answered, this time smiling all the while. "It was funny, don't worry about it."

"That's a relief," Bertram sighed jokingly, relieved that Harry had found it just as funny as he had. Harry chuckled at that, before turning his attention over to Xenophilius, who was questioning about something in the book that he was reading.

The rest of the journey went by, and before long, they were just rolling into King's Cross station. After grabbing their personal items, they all exited the train and said their goodbyes to one another. "I'll see you at the wedding," Greta said, backing away from Harry with Milton, who waved next to her. "Have a good break!"

"You too," Harry waved back, before flipping his gaze over to Xenophilius as the wizard came to a stop next to him. "Xeno, I'll meet you next Friday, yeah?"

"Yeah, sounds good, see you," Xeno said, before apparating out, presumably to his family's house.

"Owl me, we'll meet up," Harry told Bertram, who agreed with a nod. He promised Bertram that they would meet up, a promise that he intended on happily keeping, excited to have a new friend become more integral to his life.

"Bye Harry," said Bertram, turning his back and walking away from Harry.

"See you," Harry replied, watching as the boy walked through the portal, leaving Harry on Platform 9 and 3/4ths as he waited for Bellatrix to exit the train.

"You hungry?" A female voice said to Harry, coming up from behind the wizard.

"Yes," Harry said, without turning around, recognizing the voice. "Are you?"

"Want to grab something to eat?" Bellatrix questioned, as she walked around to Harry's front; there were only a few people left on the platform, groups of friends saying their goodbyes, giving them some sliver of privacy from prying eyes.

"Aren't your parents waiting for you?" Harry asked, remembering that she had mentioned dinner plans with her mother and father before they went away on holiday.

"Oh, right, they're leaving tonight," Bellatrix sighed, realizing that the rest of the night would be spent with her family, rather than with Harry.

"Don't your parents ever stay in the country when you're on break?" Harry questioned curiously as the final people made their way through the portal, leaving an empty platform just for the two of them.

"No," Bellatrix answered, shaking her head in the negative. "I used to go with them all the time; it's only recently that I stopped, when my end at Hogwarts drew nearer."

"Interesting," Harry nodded in understanding, noticing how many of them around their age felt the same growing desire for life outside of Hogwarts. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Don't remind me," Bellatrix frowned, knowing exactly what Harry was referencing. She leaned up and kissed him, their lips touching for a few lingering moments. "Bye," She said as she pulled away, before disapparating, leaving Harry alone on the platform. With a sigh, Harry walked through the portal and entered muggle London, walking towards the Leaky Cauldron himself, returning to the familiar room number 23 and the room that had become his second home since his arrival in the 1970s.

A/N: In my mind, a lot of the wizarding families came from those twenty Norman wizards/witches, even ones from the names you don't recognize. Lescermissur are the Scrimgeours, Renard became the Lupin family, de Gaunt obviously became just Gaunt.

A/N: Next chapter will most likely be the chapter I upload on Christmas day as always. Have a good holiday season until then!


	33. Bells Will Be Ringing

Harry Potter and the Tides of the Moon

Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.

Summary: AU After OOTP- After Harry is thrust back in time, he has to contend with surviving the rest of his years in Hogwarts and living his new life around people that he knows will one day become Death Eaters. Can he find the balance between giving people a chance and doing what he knows is right or will he crumble under the pressure that comes with knowing the future?

A/N: **Thanks for the reviews everybody**. Oh, and review again!

S/N: I knew that I would not be able to write a pure Christmas chapter this year for Christmas like I usually do, so instead, I set it up so that this chapter is a direct sequel to chapter 28 "I'll Have a Black Christmas Without You." As such, you may want to go back and read that chapter before reading this one.

S/N 2: I'm so glad I was able to incorporate a Christmas song as the title of this chapter, as I have done for all of the chapters updated on Christmas while writing this story. The first was "Happy X-Mas (War is Over)", the second was "Blue Christmas", and this one is "Please Come Home for Christmas". I can't believe I've been writing this story for three years…

Chapter 33: Bells Will Be Ringing (The Glad, Glad News)

At five o'clock the first day of his Easter holiday, Harry walked out of the bathroom in his room wearing a nice pair of slacks and a blue sweater. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before flicking his eyes over to the witch that sat on the edge of his bed, who was distractedly staring down at the floor, seemingly worried about something. Harry knew that she was nervous about what they would be doing for the rest of the night, but he also knew that it was necessary and that, in the end, she'd be all the better for doing it. "You can do this, I'm going to be there with you," Harry whispered as he sat down next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"I know," Bellatrix replied in a quiet voice, though she did not meet his gaze. It wasn't that she was nervous, but rather she was wary, not really knowing what to expect or how she would react to what she was going to be doing for the next few hours.

Harry reached down and put on his shoes, pulling the laces tight to his feet and tying them up. "Are you ready?" He asked Bellatrix once he was finished, who silently nodded and reached out for his hand. Intertwining his fingers with her own, she disapparated them out of the Leaky Cauldron and to the house that Andromeda and Ted Tonks called home.

Appearing in an alley at the end of the street, they walked a hundred or so yards before stopping in front of a small white house. Harry scanned the property with a happy smile, unsurprised by what he saw, having expected something similar when he imagined it the previous night. The house that met his gaze was by no means a mansion. It wasn't decked out in extravagant décor or expensive furnishings; there was no rolling estate or secluded pond. It was a simple house; a quaint home that was perfectly situated in a muggle community. Whether it was the feel of magic around it, or the potential of the people inside, but Harry immediately had a feeling of being at home, a reaction that surprised him quite a lot.

Walking up the blue door that had the number 35 on it, Bellatrix pressed the bell and took a step back next to Harry, both waiting to be let inside with a nervous energy around them. A few moments later, the door sprang open, revealing a woman that looked nearly identically to Bellatrix, except with light brown hair and softer, kinder and wider eyes. Next to her stood a man who was of medium height, with brown eyes, fair hair and a small belly. Harry met their gaze and smiled at them, knowing that Bellatrix needed him to be happy for the both of them as she struggled with her feelings.

"Welcome, welcome," Ted said in a pleasant voice, opening the door wide and moving off to the side, allowing Harry and Bellatrix into the house.

"You must be Mr. Tonks," Harry grinned as he entered the home, putting out his hand for Ted to shake. His eyes then flicked over to Andromeda, who gave him a small smile in return. "Mrs. Tonks, I presume. I am Harry, Harry Dumbledore."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Andromeda said in a polite tone, before turning her attention to Bellatrix, who had stayed quiet up until this point. "Hello, sister."

"'Dromeda," Bellatrix returned evenly with a nod of her head, meeting Andromeda's gaze with her own violet one. She kept a neutral expression on her face, and Harry could tell that she was guarded, as if making an effort to keep her emotions in check.

"Please, call me Ted, Harry, I dislike the name Mr. Tonks," Ted replied happily, not wanting Harry to be burdened by such niceties. "I think it stems from the fact that my father's name is Thomas and worked as a train engineer, so you can imagine the jokes I can make with Thomas, the Tonks."

Harry grinned at that, finding the irony of Tonks not liking her first name and preferring Tonks, while her own father disliked their last name and preferred his first. "That's a really funny joke if you know it's a muggle book," Harry said, gesturing to Bellatrix, who had a confused look on her face.

"Either way, it's good to see you again, Bellatrix," Ted said, closing the door behind them and welcoming them further into his home. "I haven't seen you since you first entered Hogwarts. You've grown up so much. You've really grown into a beautiful woman."

"Thanks," Bellatrix said evenly once more, her gaze moving over to the older wizard. He looked about the same as she remembered him, albeit older and a little fatter, but with the same jolly look on his face that he had as a teenager. "It has been a while."

"At least we caught up eventually," Ted laughed, as he gestured for them to follow him into the kitchen, where dinner was still being prepared. "Do you want something to drink, Harry?" Ted questioned, looking over to the young wizard with a curious expression on his face.

"What do you have?" Harry asked, watching as Ted crossed to the other side of the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator. Harry immediately noticed that it was a refrigerator that ran on electricity, rather by magic like what many magical people used.

"Anything you could want," Ted smiled, pausing a few feet before the refrigerator. "My muggle family loves wizard drinks like butterbeer and my wizard friends love muggle drinks like cream soda so I keep a stocked bar pretty much all of the time."

"I'll have a butterbeer," Harry replied, not really in the mood for anything else.

"What about you, Bellatrix, what will you be having?" Ted questioned happily, hoping that Bellatrix would eventually feel more comfortable with him. He could tell by the way Harry was acting that the pressure needed to be kept off of her, which was something he was more than happy to help out with.

"I'll have the same, please," Bellatrix answered, before looking around the kitchen, realizing that someone was missing. Though she had never met her niece, she knew that Andromeda and Ted had a daughter named Nymphadora that was three years old, soon to be four, though she was nowhere to be seen. "Where is Nymphadora?"

"She's spending the day with my muggle family," Ted replied as he opened the refrigerator and retrieved three bottles of butterbeer, grabbing himself one as well. He closed the refrigerator door with his hip, and walked back over to the counter that Harry and Bellatrix were.

"That's a shame, I was excited to meet her," Harry said disappointedly, truly having been excited to see Tonks for the first time since his traveling to the past. His last memories of Tonks had been her death, which was an unfortunate tragedy he wished to forget about by making new memories with the younger Tonks.

"Maybe next time," Andromeda returned, not knowing whether there would be a next time or not as it all depended on how the rest of the night turned out. While she had hopes that it would go well, she knew that she and Bellatrix had never really gotten along in the past and she doubted very much time apart from one another would heal that rift.

"Of course," Harry nodded in understanding, recognizing that there was a chance of an argument, something that they wouldn't want Nymphadora to witness. "So Ted, you mentioned your muggle family, how did they take the news when you first learned about the wizarding world?"

"Disbelievingly," Ted laughed as he passed Bellatrix and Harry their butterbeers, keeping his own next to him as Andromeda poured herself a glass of red wine. "After all, finding out about a world hidden from their eyes? Kind of hard to believe from a muggle perspective, you know."

"I know," Harry nodded, recalling how he had taken the news when he first learned about the wizarding world. It was something that he didn't quite believe automatically, but wanted to believe in it since it would allow him to escape his miserable home life with his aunt and uncle.

Ted looked over to Harry, raising a questioning eyebrow. "To be raised around Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the world must have been something," He said conversationally, wanting to see how it was like to be around Albus Dumbledore whilst young.

"Er," Harry muttered, shaking his head in the negative as he popped the cap off of his butterbeer bottle. "Unfortunately, I wasn't raised around him. In fact, other than once when I was a baby, I didn't see him up close or speak with him until the end of my first year at Hogwarts."

"His first year of his old school, he means," Bellatrix corrected him quickly, not wanting Ted or Andromeda to see the incongruities of his story and question it. "Since you know that he transferred into Hogwarts just last year."

Ted nodded, presuming that Albus and Harry simply weren't as close to one another as some families are. "Where did you go before Hogwarts?" He asked interestedly, having only known about the three that competed in the Tri-Wizard Cup.

"A small school in Europe," Harry said, continuing on with his lie that he created when first arriving back in the past.

"You two met in Hogwarts then?" Andromeda questioned as she took a sip of her red wine. She had yet to really form an opinion on Harry, not knowing whether he was as nice as he seemed, but from first impressions, she was very impressed with him: he was nice, kind, handsome, and she imagined a good wizard.

"Just about," Harry nodded in the affirmative as an involuntary smile took shape on his face, pleasant memories of his time with Bellatrix running through his mind. "We had Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and we met in the first class session."

"And you're not a pureblood?" Andromeda questioned, flicking her gaze over to Bellatrix, wanting to see her reaction to the question.

"Oh, not at all," Harry shook his head in the negative, being proud of his heritage. "I have a muggleborn mother."

"Surprising," Andromeda whispered, taking another sip of her wine. She placed her glass down onto the counter and poured herself another glass, before taking another sip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bellatrix snapped, reading into what her sister had said. "Didn't think I'd give him the time of day because he wasn't a pureblood?"

"Not really, no," Andromeda replied, staring straight at her sister, clearly unimpressed with Bellatrix's seeming accomplishment.

"Well, you're wrong," Bellatrix mocked, meeting Andromeda's gaze. She was not afraid of speaking her mind to her sister, even if it came off as insulting or disingenuous.

"That's nothing new," Andromeda scowled, putting her glass down on the counter and turning to face Bellatrix. "After all, aren't I always wrong in your opinion?" She questioned rhetorically, recalling the many times growing up that Bellatrix called her out on her flaws or imperfections.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you're wrong about this," Bellatrix growled, anger quickly rising in her stomach. They had rarely gotten along, even as kids, having complete different characteristics and beliefs, but because of their similar temperaments, it often came to a head through various arguments that was filled with cutting remarks.

"So does that mean you respect Ted, now?" Andromeda inquired, knowing what Bellatrix and the rest of the family had said about Ted when she had announced their engagement years prior—everyone thought of him as scum, nothing better than mud on the bottom of a boot.

"Andromeda," Ted warned, not wanting to start anything. He had hoped that Andromeda's simmering resentment over her family's beliefs wouldn't bubble over into the dinner and create an awkward night, but apparently that was not to be as Andromeda seemingly needed to get her anger off of her chest.

"You're such a tosser, Andromeda," Bellatrix sneered, her eyes wide in fury, angered at her sister's attitude.

"I'd much rather be a tosser than a bloody-minded, manky dodger that grew up like Sally no-mates because she refused to speak with anyone not pureblooded." Andromeda shrieked in a thick accent, making Harry cringe a bit, seeing the similarly vicious attitudes that the women each had, a trait that they had clearly received from their Black heritage if their paternal aunt served as an example.

They both stared at each other with deathly gazes before, without a word, they turned around and walked out of the room in the opposite way of one another—Bellatrix into the dinning room and Andromeda into the living room. "Well, that worked well," Harry sighed, looking over to Ted and seeing that he had a similar expression on his face.

"Perhaps we expected too much of them and from them," Ted reasoned disappointedly, having not expected the night to take a turn so quickly. He figured they would have at least had gotten through the early introductions, if not most of the meal. "Their dislike of one another runs deeper than I thought it did."

"I guess," Harry agreed with a nod, not really knowing what to say. While he had no false hopes of the night as he knew that it would be tough and it would be a process, he did not expect them to be at each other's throats so quickly.

"At least we get a long. Cheers," Ted grinned, tapping his butterbeer bottle against Harry's. They both took a sip of their respective drinks, each having enjoyed the other's company so far. "Are you going to go and talk to her?"

"Did you see her?" Harry shivered, knowing how dangerous Bellatrix was when angry. "I'm not going in there and I wouldn't suggest anyone do so. I'm afraid of her myself," He smiled, earning a laugh from Ted, who silently agreed that the Black women were quite scary when they wanted to be.

"Unfortunately, as a husband, I think I have to go talk to my wife," Ted sighed, looking towards the door that Andromeda had walked through. "Go and get her to the table, and I'll do the same for Andromeda."

"Okay, I will," Harry said happily, being more than willing to do whatever it took to get Bellatrix to the dinner table.

"I'll be back," Ted said, walking through the door just as Harry went into the hallway opposite. "Andromeda?" Ted said, seeing that she was standing by the window, staring out into the yard.

"She infuriates me," Andromeda growled as she turned around to face her husband. While his presence calmed her down slightly, she was still annoyed at Bellatrix a great deal.

"Can we please just eat? This will take time, it's not going to happen over night," Ted whispered, not wanting his wife to give up so quickly. His wife had very little family in her life, only Alphard and sometimes Sirius, so he knew how precious the opportunity was to have Bellatrix become a member of their family. "I don't care if she respects me right now, it'll come. Don't force it upon her. If I'm not worried about, neither should you be."

"But I do care! To have you disrespected in your own house is intolerable for me," Andromeda replied, not willing to allow Ted to be disrespected, regardless of who it was. He was her husband, someone that she had promised her devotion and loyalty and love to, not someone that she would allow to be trampled due to her inaction—she would fight for him, no matter the cause.

"You're a Black, I get it, no matter how you feel on blood supremacy, you do have an ego," Ted shook his head, trying to understand how to get through to Andromeda. "But I don't care if I get disrespected. Shrug it off, it's okay. Plus," He added, looking back at the door, where Harry and Bellatrix were, hopefully waiting for them at the table. "She hasn't disrespected me. Not today, at least. Now can we go please?" He questioned, holding out his hand to her.

"But…" Andromeda said slowly, trying to form an argument against what Ted had said.

"No buts," Ted ordered, not allowing Andromeda another word on the matter. "Give it time. Make the effort. Trust me; she's putting herself out there way more than you're giving her credit for, dear. Her presence here is basically her admission that she was wrong, give her respect for that. Please?" He said, knowing that it was true and that Bellatrix needed to be given time to really change. "Now let's go eat."

With a nod, she took his hand and was lead into the dining room, where she saw both Harry and Bellatrix sitting on one side of the table, whispering quietly amongst themselves. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Harry, just needed to do something." Andromeda said politely, truly not wanting to have ruined Harry's night.

"It's no problem," Harry smiled, gripping Bellatrix's hand underneath the table. He gave her a nod, hoping to give her the confidence to do what they discussed.

"I'm sorry, Andromeda," Bellatrix whispered, though it was heard by all. She met her sister's gaze, her violet eyes pouring into her sister's, before flicking them down to the table.

Andromeda looked over to her sister, and briefly wondered whether it was an apology for what she had done in the past or what she had said in the kitchen. By the look on Bellatrix's face, Andromeda believed it to be the former, which made her realize that Ted might have been correct in what he had said. "Let's just eat, okay?" Andromeda replied with a small smile, trying to release the pent up resentment that she held in her heart. "I hope you both like duck." She said as she grabbed her wand and gave it a slight twitch, making various plates and bowl levitate from the kitchen and into the dining room as a result.

They all went silent as they passed around the food, piling on their portions onto the plates in front of them. "So what are your plans after Hogwarts, Harry?" Ted questioned as he cut up his duck into smaller pieces, attempting to break the awkwardness that was mounting and the steer the conversation into a pleasant direction.

"I don't really know to be honest," Harry answered, taking the spoon and scooping a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "I'm probably not going to be doing anything until the Dark Lord is beaten if I'm being frank."

"Well, don't be Frank, be Harry," Ted said in a serious tone, earning a grunt of laughter from Harry.

"With a name like you have, I wouldn't expect anything else," Andromeda replied, ignoring Ted's joke and focusing on Harry instead.

"I once wanted to be an Auror or a Hit Wizard, but lately, I've been questioning that decision. I don't want to fight for the rest of my life." Harry informed them, giving them a detailed explanation of his career choices. "I don't know, something will turn up if I'm patient."

"I know a few Aurors, they seem happy, but some of them would agree with you, especially in a time like this." Ted replied, recalling his friends in the Department of Law Enforcement who voiced their concerns about using the Unforgiveables against another human in order to beat the Death Eaters.

"What do you do, Ted?" Harry asked curiously, having never learned from Tonks what her parents did for a living, if anything at all.

"I work at the Ministry," Ted answered with a shrug, not all too proud of his career. While he was successful in that he made a nice living, his career lacked adventure and ambition, making him somewhat average in result. "Not too exciting, but I have fun."

"He works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Andromeda informed Harry, expounding on Ted's answer. "He's a translator; he's very good with languages."

"Interesting," Harry replied politely, giving a small smile. He recalled how Percy was working in the Department back in his own time, but he doubted that Ted was as serious about his job as Percy seemed to be. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Just a few muggle ones," Ted replied, waving Harry's impressions off—he didn't know that many languages. "I haven't been able to master gobbledygook." He joked with a laugh, referencing the goblin language that only a few humans in the country were able to speak.

"I would imagine that it's tough to learn," Harry grinned, having not understood a single word of it when hearing the language numerous times while in Gringotts.

Ted flicked his eyes over to Bellatrix, and watched as she played with her food, clearly on the outskirts of the conversation. "What about you, what do you plan on doing, Bellatrix?" Ted asked, having never really spoken to the girl before outside of simple pleasantries.

"I don't know," mumbled Bellatrix, as she truly had no idea on what her career would be after she left Hogwarts. She had yet to give it much thought, but she knew that she would eventually, especially now that she had chosen to pursue Harry.

"What are you interested in?" Ted continued in an effort to include her, not knowing what she was good at or even what she liked to do.

"Charms," Bellatrix replied with a shrug, that being the first thing that came to her mind. "Maybe I'll do something with that."

"Like write articles? Or even a book?" Harry prodded, realizing that they had never spoken to each other about their future employment. It had never come up in conversation, and with Harry so concerned about her not being a Death Eater, he never focused on finding on what she would do instead. "I'd read them."

"I would too," Andromeda whispered, as she pushed her food around on the plate with her fork, similarly to Bellatrix.

"...you would?" Bellatrix looked up at Andromeda, surprised by that revelation. With all the disagreements that they had, it was quite shocking to Bellatrix that Andromeda would still be willing to read her work should she produce something on the subject.

"Of course," Andromeda nodded, as Ted rubbed her back, knowing that she had to do or say something to ease the awkwardness between the sisters and this was her way of doing just that. "You and I may not get along, but you're a better witch than I will ever be, that I'll willingly admit."

"Thank you," Bellatrix smiled, appreciating the compliment, knowing that it probably was not easy for Andromeda to say.

Andromeda smiled back, and Harry and Ted immediately felt their icy relationship thaw a little, which in light of their history, was enough to consider the night a success. "So have you seen our sister lately?"

"At Christmas," Bellatrix answered with a nod, referencing the time where she had to cancel on Harry on Christmas Eve in order to see her sister so the witch wouldn't get suspicious. "I'm seeing her tomorrow too."

"Did you go to their wedding?" Andromeda questioned, presuming that Bellatrix had indeed gone to the wedding, unlike her, who had not even been invited. "I bet mother was thrilled with her choice in a man. I mean a rich, pureblooded wizard such as Malfoy? It would be like heaven for them."

"Yes, I did," Bellatrix nodded, images of Narcissa's summer wedding springing to her mind. It was one of elegance, of grandeur, a wedding that many people would not forget. There had been nearly two hundred guests in attendance, a who's who of the wizarding world, from the coach of the national quidditch team to the Minister of Magic himself. "You know her, they spared no expense."

"With a gold amount like the Malfoys have, would you spare anything either?" Andromeda questioned back with a raise eyebrow, already knowing the answer. While their purity beliefs were greatly different, Andromeda knew that she was very similar to her sisters in many other ways, her desire for the finer things not being an exception.

"Probably not," Bellatrix shrugged with a smirk, not denying that she would go all out as well if she had the resources of the Malfoy family. "Did you know him when you went to school?"

"He started Hogwarts a few years after we did, I recall, but no, I never talked to him," Andromeda said, a pensive expression on her face. She had started Hogwarts in 1963, three years before Lucius, which meant that she was in her fourth year when the wizard first started. "At that point, I rarely spent anytime near the Slytherins or in the Slytherin common room, so I wasn't in a position where I had to speak with him. But I'm unsurprised that they ended up married."

"Speaking of marriage," Ted prodded with a smile, wondering where the younger couple fell on the issue. He and Andromeda had talked about marriage in their final months at Hogwarts, but they had not gotten married until a year or two out of school, when they had settled down and found careers for themselves.

Harry shifted in his seat, glaring playfully at Ted as the man continued to smile his way. "Don't waste your time because we haven't discussed it," Harry replied, then pausing, he added, "But I will say that us even being here is a good sign."

"A good sign for what?" Bellatrix raised an amused eyebrow, not really wanting to think about marriage herself, but finding Harry's discomfort at the subject highly entertaining.

"This is really good ham, Andromeda," Harry grinned at the older witch, trying to change the topic of conversation. He took his fork and shuffled some food into his mouth in an effort to prevent the need to respond to Bellatrix's question.

"It's duck, and I'm not saving you from this one," Andromeda said with a smile, pouring some iced tea into her glass, having had her fill of wine for the night.

Harry's gaze moved over to Ted, as Bellatrix continued to stare at him from her seat. "Don't look at me, kid." Ted laughed in amusement, not daring to get Harry off of the hook.

"You were saying?" Bellatrix said as she saw that Harry had no one else to help him.

"I wouldn't be meeting your sister and her husband and hopefully your niece in time, I wouldn't have wanted to meet them, unless I intended to being part of this family one day." Harry muttered, not meeting her gaze. "Not necessarily soon, mind you, but one day, perhaps."

"How very definitive," Bellatrix rolled her eyes as a small smile played at her lips, inwardly surprised at the delight she felt at what Harry had said.

The rest of the dinner went well, the tone staying conversational between the two couples with everyone getting to know one another. While there was still a distance between the two sisters, both Ted and Harry knew that it would take time to erase nearly a decade of bad memories and resentment, but they also knew that it would heal in time. It would take a lot of work and it wouldn't be finished with just a few dinners, but it would happen eventually so long as each sister wanted it to happen. To that end, as the plates were empty, Harry and Ted both cleaned up the table and went into the kitchen to fetch dessert, leaving the two sisters alone for the first time.

"I get it now, Andromeda," Bellatrix whispered, as Ted and Harry were still in the kitchen, away from earshot. "I understand why you chose Ted over us."

"You do?" Andromeda replied, raising an eyebrow, wanting to hear what Bellatrix had to say on the matter.

"To meet someone that you want to be around, no matter the expense, yes," Bellatrix muttered with her voice quiet and her tone thoughtful. While she understood the reasons behind what Andromeda had done, she had hoped that she would be able to go about it a different way than what her sister did and be able to keep her family in her life. "I get that now."

"You must be going through the most awful cognitive dissonance in that brain of yours," Andromeda said, biting the bottom of her lip, feeling badly about what her sister was going through. No matter their differences, she still loved Bellatrix, and had always hoped she'd see the error of her ways and come around to the right side.

"What?" Bellatrix asked, looking up, wanting Andromeda to expound on what she had said.

"You're trying to jump through hoops to be with this wizard, this Harry Dumbledore, when we both know you're still pretty big into the blood purity thing." Andromeda answered, though her voice did not reveal any condescension on her part—she was stating a fact, not offering her opinion. "I'm proud of you. It's not everyday that a person can bite their tongue and actually take the initiative to change in order to get something that they want—but you're doing that. And I'm proud of you for it."

Bellatrix met her sister's gaze, but stayed silent for a few moments, biting her lip as she thought of what she wanted to say. "He makes me…he makes me not feel so angry, he makes me want to just be alone with him and have fun. He makes me smile," Bellatrix whispered, losing herself in the thought of her feelings for Harry, feelings that she had never admitted out loud. "When I'm with him, it's just us, nothing and no one else. He makes me…want to suppress all that I once held dear."

"That's love for you," Andromeda replied in a wistful tone, recalling those same feelings that she held for Ted. "Outside of storge, eros is the strongest kind of love. It makes you do things that you probably wouldn't do without it. It's without logic, without reason, it just is, kind of like magic."

"Storge?" Bellatrix asked inquisitively, not knowing what the word meant.

"The type of love that a mother feels for her child, the way I feel for Nymphadora," Andromeda replied casually, before taking on a serious look and turning her gaze to Bellatrix. "Listen, when that time comes, when you feel people bearing down on you to do something that they think you want to do, do what will make you happy. If that path includes Alphard, Ted, Nymphadora and I, maybe even Sirius, then great, I'll be here with open arms. It'll be tough at first, but we will form the bond that we should already have. Just do what will make you happy, don't worry about anyone else, not Narcissa, not mum and dad, allow no one else but you to make the decision." Then, remembering what Bellatrix had said, she added, "And I didn't pick Ted over you, I simply fell in love with him and you all didn't like that he was a muggleborn."

"I think I already have made that choice," Bellatrix replied, just as Harry and Ted walked back in with the desserts. Harry carried a tray of biscuits in one hand and a tea kettle in the other, while Ted held a pumpkin cake and a jug of milk in his hands.

"Harry tried talking me into letting the both of us just eat it all in the kitchen, but I felt it unfair to you two," Ted grinned over to Andromeda and Bellatrix as he placed the items in his hands down onto the table. "I said, 'no, they'll want to eat as well, Harry, how dare you suggest such a thing!'"

"That is so not true," Harry laughed, placing the tea kettle down onto the table and taking a seat next to Bellatrix. He held his hands up in defense of himself, knowing that it was actually the opposite of what Ted had said. "He was the one that wanted to do that, not me. I said that Bellatrix would kill me if she didn't get a piece of this cake."

"Still have that sweet tooth, do you?" Andromeda smiled, remembering how her sister could never turn down a sweet as a child.

"She has it worse than you can ever know," Harry muttered, earning a playful slap in the arm from Bellatrix. They all cut themselves a piece of dessert, eating it as they made polite conversation about the weather.

As they were finishing up their respective pieces of cake, Bellatrix excused herself to the bathroom, leaving Harry alone with Ted and Andromeda. "You two are going to see Narcissa tomorrow?" Andromeda asked as she put her tea cup down on the table.

"Yeah, we're having dinner with them," Harry nodded, a bit nervous at the next day's itinerary, knowing that he would not like either of the Malfoys. While he had agreed to do it and would not go back on that promise, he just hoped that he would be able to avoid any confrontation with Lucius. "It was part of the deal. If I wanted to meet you, I had to also be willing to meet Narcissa."

"You don't seem too excited," Ted noticed, seeing the expression that was on Harry's face as he discussed the prospect of dinner with the pair of Malfoys. It was an expression that one would have before going to the dentist, as if only doing it because you have to, rather than it being something that one wants to do.

"I don't want to say anything to offend Andromeda…" Harry whispered, looking down at his dessert plate, hoping not to give Andromeda any reason to speak bad about him.

"Say it, I don't care," Andromeda laughed, waving Harry's fears off, fully aware that her sister had married one of the worst wizards in the country. "If you think I haven't spoken to Bellatrix all too much over the years then you'd really think I haven't spoken to Narcissa even more since I haven't had any contact with her at all since Hogwarts, not even an owl."

"Their superiority beliefs in themselves disgust me, so yeah, I'm not too excited, but I'll do it just to make her happy," Harry answered, looking up at Andromeda, knowing that what he said would affect her more than Ted. "They're toxic, though, especially Lucius. I can't stand that guy."

Andromeda nodded her head as Harry spoke, agreeing with everything that he said, but inwardly wondering why Harry would force himself to be around the Malfoys if he hated everything about them. "Do you love her?" Andromeda questioned in a tone that Harry could only describe as sisterly. Harry knew that Andromeda was prodding him in an effort to make sure that Bellatrix wouldn't get hurt, which was something that Harry couldn't help but respect about Andromeda—the fact that she was still able to do that and still felt the sisterly bond to want to protect her little sister even after having been ignored for so long.

"Yes, and she knows it," Harry said wistfully, remembering that night outside of Alphard's on Christmas Day when he admitted to both Bellatrix and himself that he loved her with all of his heart. When he said it, he meant it: he loved her. "I gave her my heart last Christmas."

"Has she told you she loves you?" Andromeda inquired, wondering how open Bellatrix was about her feelings. The Bellatrix she knew would never admit such a thing as it wasn't in her character to do so, but she reasoned that there was a possibility that Harry had perhaps opened her up to the possibility of admitting it.

"No, but I don't need to hear it to know," Harry smiled as he shook his head, knowing that Bellatrix's willingness to dine with Andromeda, the sister she did not get along with even as children, was proof positive of her feelings for him.

Andromeda nodded at Harry's answer, impressed with the wisdom behind it—not everyone could admit their feelings easily. "I'm sorry that Nymphadora isn't here, it's just that, with it being the first time, I didn't know what would happen so I didn't want her around here for that," Andromeda apologized as she stirred sugar into her tea, truly starting to like Harry enough to introduce him to her daughter. "And I'm sorry for before, I really actually do like you, that had nothing to do with you. It was just the emotion that I was feeling."

"It's really okay, I understand. But I will say that Bellatrix wanted to see her, as well," Harry said as his eyes flicked over to the door, where Bellatrix was returning from the washroom. "What are your plans for Easter tomorrow, anything special?"

"Just a simple dinner with my parents," Ted shrugged, not really having any big plans for the day. "We're not doing anything too important or exciting."

"Will Alphard be there?" Harry asked, wondering what the older Black was up to since they last saw one another. While in the wizard's presence, Harry had sensed that Alphard was usually alone most of the time, a fact that saddened him as he knew the feeling of loneliness all too well due to his time with the Dursleys.

"Yes," Andromeda answered as she took a sip of her tea, its heat warming her up inside. "We always try to include him as much as we can. He's quite fond of you, by the way."

"That's nice," Harry returned, happy that Alphard was seen by them as a member of the family, rather than just a crazy uncle that they never saw. "And I'm excited to see him on Friday, as well."

From her spot next to Harry, Bellatrix furrowed her brow, trying to remember if she knew where Ted's parents lived. "I thought Ted parent's lived a way's away?" She questioned, wondering if the pair were going to apparate to Ted's parents or travel a different way.

"They do, but they're spending Easter with us," Andromeda replied, realizing where Bellatrix was going with the question. "So we're going to be having dinner here."

Before long, the night was coming to a close and Harry and Bellatrix were saying their goodbyes to the Tonks couple. Andromeda and Bellatrix each promised to see each other more, and Harry and Ted knew that they both meant it and intended on holding the other to those promises. They waved goodbye before disappearing with a crack, appearing in the Leaky Cauldron not a moment later. They walked outside of the pub and entered muggle London, Harry making the near mile walk to Bellatrix's house to make sure that she returned home safely. They walked the few blocks until they reached Dungient Street, where members of the Black family had lived for over a century. They eventually reached the home, and after a kiss goodnight, Bellatrix scurried up the stoop and entered the home. With a small smile on his face, Harry returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, tired from the day's events.

He awoke a little before midday the next day. After eating a light brunch and reading the paper for the daily news, he took a shower and prepared himself for his dinner with the Malfoys. He was dreading the interaction with Lucius, knowing how foul the wizard was, but he hardened himself up for it, wanting to make sure that Bellatrix was happy and that he made due on his promise to her. Just as he was putting the finishing touches on his outfit, there was a knock on the door, and Harry bounded across the room and opened the door, revealing Bellatrix in elegant green robes. "Ready?" She questioned him, immediately noticing that their roles had been reversed from the day before, with Harry being the hesitant one this time.

"Yup," Harry nodded, taking a step out into the hallway and closing the door to his room as they began to walk down to the pub below.

"Okay," Bellatrix started, flicking her eyes over to Harry as they walked, planning on informing him of certain things that he should avoid speaking out about. "The Malfoys are related by blood to the Blacks, Rosiers, Bulstrodes, Crabbes, Flints and Maxes through my sister, and the Spungens, the Spinks, and the Smarts through Lucius. Do not insult any of those families and you should be okay."

"Oh, just those families, is that all?" Harry grinned, making her roll her eyes in amusement. "Don't worry," Harry waved her off, not wanting her to concern herself about it. "I only intend on making fun of you, not any of those families." He joked, earning a playful slap from Bellatrix.

"You better be careful, Dumbledore, or you're going to get cursed," Bellatrix mocked with a smirk, narrowing her gaze at Harry.

"I'm not afraid of you, Black," Harry challenged, raising a daring eyebrow, tempting her to make her move.

"Well, then it's proven, you are a fool like I've always said," Bellatrix said, sticking her tongue out at Harry. "Additionally, just don't mention the Hitchens' or the Nigels, and we'll be fine."

"Who are they?" Harry asked, furrowing his brows, not recognizing those names. He could recognize the names of the other families that Bellatrix mentioned earlier, most of them at least, but he didn't think he had ever heard about either the Nigels or the Hitchens families.

"Hitchens' are a line of wizards that hail from a member of the Black family that was disowned for marrying a muggle named Bob Hitchens," Bellatrix answered quickly, as if retelling a planned script. "And the Nigels are a whole other family that have lineage with the Blacks when their patriarch was disowned for supporting muggle rights. This all happened years ago, like a century or more, before even our grandparents were born, so while it shouldn't come up in conversation, just make sure you don't bring it up."

"So many families I can't name," said Harry, shaking his head in amazement, confused as to why a family would try to hide their ancestry like the Blacks seemed to do.

"Well," Bellatrix started, trying to figure out how to best explain it to Harry, someone who was unaware of the politics of the pureblood families. "The Blacks really only respect around forty wizarding families, if I counted right, so it leaves families on the outskirts and they should therefore be avoided in the minds of the Blacks. They basically took the sacred twenty-eight names, added a few of their own respectable families like the Maxes and the Spungens, and got to the number forty."

Harry twisted his face into a look of confusion, perplexed by the arrogance as to declare twenty-eight families sacred. "Sacred twenty-eight?" He questioned as they reached the pub, though he already knew the answer: purebloods that thought of themselves as better than everyone else.

"This book that Cantankerous Nott wrote a half a century ago, listing twenty-eight pureblood families," Bellatrix informed him, before grabbing his arm and disapparating them away, arriving on the side of an empty muggle road a moment or two later. "He listed twenty-eight families that he thought were pure. The Potters weren't on that."

"Our loss then," Harry smirked, not really caring about his name and family not being on the list. To him, blood purity would be considered a little more than a joke if it wasn't for the dangerous nature of it—people actually died because of its dogma.

They walked down the long lane, before turning right into a wide driveway, arriving at the grand estate known as the Malfoy Manor. The manor was splendid, with large yew hedges and a black iron gate that barred their entrance. Beyond the gate, Harry could just see the sprawling lands that led to a three story manor house that had a dozen diamond-paned windows. In front of the house, there was a large fountain that was surrounded by elaborate gardens, housing a multitude of colorful flowers that Harry could not name. Overall, Harry noted, it was the complete opposite of the cozy home of the Tonks that he had seen the day before, and even more different than the Weasley's Burrow, which had to use magic just to stay upright.

As Bellatrix neared the gates, they contorted into a face and then popped open, apparently awaiting her arrival. Walking up the long, cobblestone pathway that led to the front door, Harry gazed around the surroundings, seeing the tall green trees and the rolling hills of grass that was quite beautiful and picturesque. To his left, Harry saw a couple of white peacocks, which made him roll his eyes at the pretentiousness of it all. He had no idea why one family needed to much, why they had to take more and more, which only enhanced his dislike of the family, perhaps unfairly.

Narcissa was already standing at the door, waiting for them as they walked up, a smile lacing her pointed face. "Bella!" She said happily, waving her sister forward excitedly.

"Cissy!" Bellatrix exclaimed with a large smile, happy to see her middle sister. She quickened her pace to a near jog and enveloped the blonde witch in a hug, making Harry cock an eyebrow at the adoration they each apparently had for one another.

They pulled back as Harry arrived at the door, making Narcissa look over at Harry, who stood a few feet away from her, trying to have a pleasant look on his face. "And you must be Harry?" Narcissa questioned as politely as she could, her eyes quickly giving him a once over.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded, stepping forward to be closer to the witch. As they were only a few feet away from each other, Harry found that he was an inch or two taller than she was, a fact that surprised him a bit as he had remembered her to be a formidable woman in his own time. "It's nice to meet you."

"Charmed," Narcissa replied, lightly shaking Harry's hand. She was tall and slim with pale skin and silky blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders. With heavy-lidded cold blue eyes, pointed features, and a perpetual expression on her face as if she was disgusted by everything around her, she looked very similar to and had a physical resemblance with Bellatrix, but whereas Bellatrix was dark, she was fair.

After the introduction, they walked into the house, Harry's eyes gazing over the portraits and artwork that adorned the walls. There was countless of Malfoys long since passed asleep in their portraits, with bronze busts stationed on podiums, and various expensive trinkets on the antique tables that were nestled against the wall. The artwork, it seemed, was very expensive and dated back to at least the fifteenth century from what Harry could tell. Some of the portraits' canvases were beginning to wear, making Harry wonder how far back the line stressed, having already found out weeks prior that the Malfoys existed from at least William the Conqueror on.

His vision moved over to the end of the hall, where he saw a small house elf appear and disappear, making him do a double take, wondering if he actually saw the elf or instead just saw what he wanted to see. The elf was young looking, and seemed to have had green tennis ball-like eyes and floppy ears, a familiar appearance to Harry's eyes. "Don't mind Dobby, sometimes he doesn't know his place," Narcissa said, coming up behind Harry along with Bellatrix, having seen Dobby as well.

"Dobby?" Harry whispered, a small smile, surprised that his elfish friend was working for the Malfoys already. He had expected Dobby to be a tad younger than that, but then again, Harry reasoned, Dobby had relayed to Harry how elves faired during Voldemort's first reign, so it did make sense that Dobby would be around.

"He was a wedding gift from Lucius' grandfather," Narcissa informed Harry, coming around to stand in front of the giant marble staircase that led up to the second floor.

"Gardnard Spungen," Bellatrix supplied, informing Harry on who her sister meant. "He was Lucius' maternal grandfather. He was a respected herbologist."

"Yes, quite famous," Narcissa agreed with Bellatrix's assessment. "He had a large orchard of elderberries, which Brutus used in his wines. That's actually how Brutus met his wife, my husband's mother. Anyway, he passed away just a few months ago, a few weeks after our wedding."

"The Malfoys are winemakers?" Harry questioned quietly to himself, surprised by that revelation, having always assumed that the Malfoys just lived off of their supply of gold that was in the depths of Gringotts.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I apologize for my lateness, I had some business to handle," Lucius said, gliding up behind the trio as Harry turned to face him. Unsurprisingly, he looked the same as he would in the future, with long platinum blond hair, gray eyes, and an arrogant look on his face that hid his inner darkness from the world. He shook Harry's hand, forcing Harry to try his best to prevent the snarl of disgust that he felt inside from showing. "It's good to see you, Bellatrix. It's been too long."

"You too," Bellatrix nodded politely, her face neutral at Lucius' presence, unlike the smile that she wore upon seeing her sister. "It has certainly been some time, that's for sure."

"Right," Lucius smiled, gesturing to the hallway off to the side of the staircase that would lead to the dinning room. "Shall we sit for dinner then?"

Following the Malfoys, Harry walked into a splendidly large dinning room, which held a long mahogany table that housed a fantastic looking set of plates made of silver and matching silverware that had the Malfoy coat of arms engraved upon them. They all sat, with Lucius taking his seat at the head of the table, Harry on his left, and Narcissa and Bellatrix across from Harry on Lucius' right. Almost immediately, food appeared on the plates in front of them and a bottle of red wine took shape in Lucius' hands. There was a deliciously glazed ham, with carrots and potatoes as sides, and a basket of dinner rolls baked to perfection.

Uncorking the bottle of wine, Lucius offered a glass to Harry, who in an effort to be polite, accepted. After pouring his guests a glass, he poured himself one as well, before leaning back in his chair as the table started to fill their plates, not all too hungry himself. "So I hear that you and our deal Bellatrix have gotten quite close recently, is that correct?"

"Fairly close, yeah," Harry agreed, cutting up his piece of ham before turning his attention to Lucius. "She's the person I'm closest with in this world and knows me better than just about anyone else."

"But you're not a Slytherin yourself?" Lucius weighed, wondering how such a connection could be reached when the two had different personalities according to the Sorting Hat.

"Nope, Ravenclaw," Harry answered, feeling a well of pride spring up inside of himself at the mention of his new house, which he had come to greatly admire over the past two years. "It was either that, or Gryffindor."

"Interesting," Lucius returned, keeping his gaze on Harry, as if weighing his appearance and everything that he knew about him so far. "I've heard it's quite difficult to foster relationships between people of different houses."

"Not at all," Harry replied, not really sure about what else to say. He could tell this was going down a path that he did not want it to go, but he also knew that he would not be able to steer the conversation away from it very easily. "You were in Slytherin?"

"Like my fathers were before me," Lucius stated, swirling his red wine in his glass. "I met my dear wife in the Slytherin common room the first night she arrived at Hogwarts."

"Love at first sight," Narcissa cooed from her spot opposite Harry. She had a look of adoration on her face as she looked over to her husband, who flicked his gaze over to her and gave her a small smile. "Even as an eleven year old, it was love at first sight."

"I'm fairly certain I disliked Harry immensely the first time I saw him," Bellatrix grinned at Harry, who gave an amused smile back at her, but stayed silent.

As if remembering Harry was there, Lucius looked away from his wife and back over at Harry, intent on learning more about him. "Dumbledore, that's a pureblood name, no?" He questioned, though it was more of a statement than anything else.

"I wouldn't know, I'm a halfblood," Harry answered firmly, fully aware of what his answer would bring. He was not going to lie to Lucius about his blood just to make this less awkward; it was not in his character to do that, to disrespect his parents as such and pretend that he was something that he wasn't.

"Is that right?" Lucius replied easily, his silky voice coming off as neutral, masking whatever disappointment he might have had at the answer.

"I'm proud of my heritage and my blood," Harry returned, staring straight at Lucius, who continued to swirl his drink around the bottom of his glass in response. Harry looked over to Bellatrix, who stared back at him, a look in her eyes that Harry recognized as sorrow. Harry immediately understood what it meant: she wasn't sorry for Lucius or her sister, she was instead sorrowful that it would never work with her and him as long as they were on opposite sides of the blood purity debate. Not wanting to lose her, Harry took a deep breath, and gave Lucius a smile that didn't show in his eyes. "After all, we can't all be a Malfoy now, can we?"

Lucius stayed silent momentarily, staring blankly back at Harry, before his face twisted into a smile—it was a gloating one, one that showed Lucius got enjoyment at being exalted. "No, I guess you can't," Lucius smirked, placing his glass back down onto the table. He grabbed his knife and fork and started to pile food onto his own plate, seemingly content in Harry's answer. "Please, don't let me keep you from eating, Mr. Dumbledore."

With a nod, Harry started to eat his food and went quiet after that, replying only when spoken to and only responding with the most barebones answers that he could—he was polite, but certainly not as open as he was the previous day. He ate in silence as he listened to Bellatrix and Narcissa chat, a visible sisterly bond shared amongst them, which surprised Harry a little as he did not expect it to be so pronounced. After all, the Narcissa Malfoy he knew in his own time was a cold woman, one that showed her disdain on her face, which made him believe that she was like that no matter the company she was in, with the exception being her own son. However, seeing her interact with Bellatrix showed that she did indeed have a heart and cared deeply for her sister, which changed his perspective of the middle Black sister a bit—not much, mind you, but a bit nonetheless.

Most of all, however, it also changed the way he looked at Bellatrix herself. Her interaction with Narcissa showed a tenderness he had not really seen before from her, not even when she was with him. While she did indeed drop her guard while around him, he was aware that it was not completely down and there were still lingering vestiges of her outward persona, but with Narcissa, he saw her at her most unguarded, a place where she felt free from prying eyes and able to act however she wanted. Though, that was not to say that many of Bellatrix's flaws were based around her guarding herself, but rather he knew it was a sign that she had a hidden layer underneath that probably existed in his own time as well.

A half an hour later found Narcissa pushing her empty plate away from her, her knife and fork lying on top of it. "I can't believe you're almost finished with Hogwarts," Narcissa sighed as she leaned back in her seat, her stomach full. She reached over to the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass, taking a few sips to wet her mouth. "I remember when you first entered, don't you, Lucius?"

"Oh yes, we were proud as you sat at the Slytherin table," Lucius recalled when Bellatrix had entered Hogwarts in his and Narcissa's fifth year at Hogwarts. Being the sister of Narcissa and a member of the Black family, she had immediately joined their group, having shown herself as a precocious witch far above her age.

"That was a while ago," Bellatrix said quietly, looking down at her plate, knowing that she had changed a lot since her early years. "I've grown up since then."

"You're still the same girl you were when I greeted you at the table," Narcissa smiled, though Bellatrix did not respond. "Shall we have some dessert?" She suggested happily, clapping her hands as the dishes cleared away, only for new dishes filled with cookies and pies and cakes to take form. "After all, I know you still love pumpkin cake just as you did as a child." She waved her wand, cut a piece of the cake that was in front of her, and sent it over to her sister, who, with a small grin, took her fork and dug in along with everyone else.

After dinner was completed, and the dessert was eaten, Harry and Bellatrix said their goodbyes and both disapparated from the Malfoy estate, Bellatrix promising to see Narcissa once school was finished in three months. Arriving on the far side of the Diagon Alley, they walked up the alley as they tried to enjoy the cool night air, heading in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron, and presumably Harry's room inside. They stayed quiet for most of the way, the alley being deserted except for a few brave patrons and the Aurors assigned to guard it, but just as they neared the entrance to the pub, Bellatrix flicked her gaze up to Harry, trying to see if she could read his expression. "So that was fun, wasn't it?" Bellatrix said, awkwardly, not really knowing how to broach the subject. "Right?"

"Of course," Harry said, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his soul. "I just want you happy, that's all."

"You didn't like them, did you?" Bellatrix replied, downtrodden at that fact, wanting nothing more than to be able to incorporate Harry into her family life. However, she did not know if she would be able to do that fully if he could not get along with Lucius.

Harry looked over to Bellatrix, giving out a long sigh as his eyes flicked up to the sky, where the moon was showing through the clouds. "Lucius is vile, Bellatrix," Harry admonished, focusing on Lucius, rather than Narcissa as he had witnessed firsthand the bond the two sisters had, something he would never be able to sway and had no intention on trying because of it. "He thinks he's better than me? Why, because he thinks he has more money? Because he thinks his estate makes him a bigger man? Because he thinks he's a greater wizard than I am? His pride and joy is being a rich, powerful wizard, but I have news for him, Bellatrix—he's not even half the wizard I am."

"Harry…" Bellatrix started, before pausing when she saw that Harry wasn't finished.

"He shows the worst of humankind, apathy to suffering, cruelty to those around him, and arrogant misapplication of his fame, fortune, and magical talent," Harry continued his rant, losing himself in the disgust that he had kept inside of him all through the dinner. "And when you compare him to Ted from yesterday? It's not even close. Ted was warm and kind, and even if he didn't like me or you, you would never know it because he was too nice of a person to state any of our flaws or deficiencies. He tried to get to know me, to get to know us, and made pleasant conversation to make us feel comfortable. Meanwhile, one of the first things that Lucius said to me was to comment on my blood purity."

"I know," Bellatrix whispered, fully aware that Harry would never be able to be himself around Lucius. She saw how much he had to swallow just to get through one dinner, let alone a less relaxed event where Lucius would have felt more open to voice his opinions. "I love my sister, though, and I won't stop seeing her."

"I know that," Harry sighed once more, not wanting to come off as selfish and uncompromising. "I'm not asking you to do that, obviously, but I just had to go through the most awful, awkward dinner that I will ever have to go through in my life. And I would do it a thousand times over again if it meant being with you, which terrifies me because I know I'll never survive having to be around that guy—not now, not in the future, maybe not ever—but I would never survive without having you around."

Bellatrix gave a small smile at what Harry had said, her heart flittering in happiness for a few short moments. "We'll figure it out, I promise," Bellatrix suggested, taking his hand into her own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Harry gave a smile, but then furrowed his brow in thought, thinking back to a conversation they had had months ago and pondering the information he had learned from Canute Kneen just a few days prior. "You remember at the beginning of the year when you mentioned the Malfoys and William the Conqueror?"

"Vaguely," Bellatrix nodded, thinking back and remembering the conversation.

"What did the Malfoys do for William the Conqueror specifically?" He questioned, wanting to know what else the Malfoys did for the man, other than what he had learned from Dumbledore and Kneen.

Bellatrix cocked an eyebrow at the question, not really understanding the relevance, but thought of the answer nonetheless. "Rumor has it that Armand Malfoy was the court mage, and in exchange for the estate we just left, he brewed potions, performed spells, and roused a wizard army for William during the invasion."

"Wouldn't that go against the Malfoy arrogance, though?" Harry questioned, curious as to how the Malfoys could hate muggles when they owed their extensive wealth to a muggle. "They hate muggles, while they helped and willingly worked for one."

"They play it off as that Armand was actually in control of William the entire time," Bellatrix shrugged, not all that concerned with the factuality of it. "As if the muggle only thought he was being helped, but in truth was actually being played by Armand."

"Right," Harry nodded, as they reached the pub. They entered through the door, before deciding to take a seat at one of the unoccupied tables for a drink. "And what about the Lestranges?" Harry questioned, also recalling Rasalgol Lestrange being on the list of names given to him by Canute Kneen.

"Same," Bellatrix replied disinterestedly. "And they got a humongous estate on the island of Jersey as a result of it. They're mostly French, so the British families don't really know about it."

"But you do?" Harry inquired with a smirk, wondering how she knew when not many other people did.

"Rodolphus likes to talk," Bellatrix said with a chuckle, knowing how loose Rodolphus' lips were when it came to gloating. "And I'm good at remembering things. Why are you so interested in any of this anyway?"

"Hey, if I'm going to have to be around some of these people, I want to know the dirt," Harry grinned, though he knew that it had more to do with his continuing fascination with the story surrounding Merlin and the Norman Conquest than any desire to acquire the less illuminated facts of the various pureblooded families' histories. "If they're French, why don't they go to Beauxbatons?"

"Hogwarts is a better school," Bellatrix muttered quickly, knowing that Hogwarts had much greater professors and a richer history than the French school. "And they have some property in Britain stemming from when their family came over again in the 1400s. And you know, if you think Lucius is terrible, just talk to Rodel Lestrange. He's the worst."

"Why?" Harry asked, disbelieving that there could be anyone, outside of Voldemort himself, worse than Malfoy. "I mean, outside of being a Death Eater, I mean—and one of the first ones at that."

"Rodel Orinn Lestrange has one of the largest egos I've ever seen," Bellatrix replied, letting Harry know about her personal opinion of the man that Harry knew to be her father in law in his future—a future Harry hoped would be avoided. "Beyond Lucius, he truly is an arrogant berk, with Rodolphus and Rabastan inheriting simply a morsel of his ego."

"Coming from you, that's surprising," Harry snorted, earning a stare from Bellatrix. "Okay, okay, what makes his ego so much larger than every other pureblooded supremacist I've ever met?"

"You know what Rodolphus' full name is?" She questioned, though she did not expect Harry to be able to answer. "Rodolphus Rodell Lestrange."

"So what?" Harry replied confusedly, perplexed on what was wrong with it. He knew many of people, both good and evil, who named their son or daughter after themselves or their partner—Voldemort himself having been one of children on the opposite end, having been named after his muggle father.

"You know what Rabastan's full name is?" She asked once more, this time questioning about the younger Lestrange brother. "Rabastan Orrin Lestrange."

Harry bit his lip, not really understanding what Bellatrix was trying to say. "So he named his children after himself?" He said, finding it rich that Bellatrix was seemingly affronted by that fact when she came from a family that had many people named after ancestors four or five deep.

"Yeah, but tweaked the name so that they aren't exactly the same," Bellatrix answered, getting to what she wanted to tell Harry all along. "Why did he tweak them? Because he didn't want his children to have his name in case they were disappointments."

Harry gave out a laugh at that pronouncement, seeing what Bellatrix meant. "Sounds like he loves his children," Harry said sarcastically, disgusted at the idea that a father would think of his sons as potential disappointments at the time of their birth. It was an absurd idea to him, even questioning whether a child would be a disappointment, let alone one that had yet to show his or her talents such as a baby who was just born. Shaking their heads, they went quiet after that as they each ordered a drink, enjoying their time together.

Eventually, Harry returned to his room and quickly fell asleep. In time, the Thursday before Edgar's wedding found Harry and Bellatrix buying new robes for the event. While Bellatrix had watched Harry being fitted for his new dress robes, Bellatrix had decided to hide her purchase from his eyes, preventing him from getting a peek at how she would appear at the wedding in an attempt to surprise him. Though he had tried to protest, he knew by the look on her face that it was an argument he would not win, so with that in mind, he stayed silent on the issue, inwardly anxious to see her in her robes.

As the day turned into night and their fittings were completed, they exited Gladrags, and headed towards the Leaky Cauldron, again walking through the deserted Diagon Alley. Unlike the bustling place that Harry knew it to be in the future, this version of the Alley was empty and depressing, the fear of Voldemort overcoming the people and scaring them from indulging in the many shops that the alley had to offer. "I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said, as he and Bellatrix slowly made their way down Diagon Alley and neared the Leaky Cauldron, both carrying bags in their hands from their robes shopping.

"Is my cousin coming or is it just you and Aubrey?" Bellatrix inquired, wondering if Sirius had been invited as Harry said he was planning on doing.

"Don't know, I guess I'll find out," Harry grinned, watching as she winked at him and disapparated with a small pop, leaving him to his night with his friends.

With his bags still in hand, Harry walked into the Leaky Cauldron and went up to his room, placing the bags down onto the floor next to his bed and walking back out. He headed down into the pub and joined the table that housed Bertram and Xenophilius, happy that his friends had made it safely, knowing that it was a risk just to leave the house due to Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Unfortunately, Sirius never did arrive, which disappointed Harry a bit, but he understood in the end. After a pleasant dinner, he went back to his room and fell asleep while doing an assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

At six o'clock the next day, Harry arrived in the alley to the side of Alphard Black's house with a quiet pop. Walking down the street and up to the door, he gave it a few swift knocks and waited for it to be opened, hearing footsteps on the other side. Within moments, the door was pulled open to reveal a man that appeared to be in his early-50s, with a tiny stomach and graying hair. "Alphard, it's nice to see you," Harry smiled, shaking the hand of the older wizard that had appeared at the door.

"Harry! Welcome, welcome," Alphard said, taking a step to the side and allowing Harry entrance into his home. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Harry entered, and noticed that it was just as he remembered, having spent Christmas day there just a few months prior. As he was scanning the home, Bellatrix came walking down the hallway and gave him a smile as she walked up and hugged him, greeting him affectionately. "Hi," She whispered as she pulled away from their embrace, happy to see him.

"Shall we?" Alphard suggested as he gestured to the dining room, where dinner was already prepared, waiting for them to enjoy.

"How have you been, sir?" Harry asked as they made the short walk over to the table, with Harry taking the seat to the left of Alphard, while Bellatrix sat on his right.

"I've been great, I've gotten to see a lot of my grand-niece, which always manages to bring a smile to my face," replied Alphard, referencing the young Nymphadora, whom he adored considerably.

"I didn't get a chance to see her when we had dinner with them the other night," Harry replied in a disappointed tone, having wanted to see Nymphadora when he had met Ted and Andromeda. It was something that he had been looking forward to for quite a while, the opportunity to see Nymphadora alive and well since his last memories of her in his own time were of her death.

Alphard stayed silent for a moment, using the time to plate his food. "How did that go?" Alphard finally questioned interestedly, wanting to hear the couple's perspective on the night.

"Surprisingly well," Harry smiled, looking over to Bellatrix, who looked at him with a neutral expression on her face, allowing him to judge how the night had went.

"No arguments then?" Alphard said, raising an eyebrow, having been told what had happened by Ted and Andromeda. He knew that there had been a small tiff between the witches early on in the night, but according to what he had learned from the Tonks couple, the night ended with promise.

"Oh, no, there was, a big one at that, too," Bellatrix replied, shaking her head as she took a bite out of her chicken leg. "And I expect there to be more, but…"

"But?" Alphard prodded, pushing for Bellatrix to go on, hoping that Bellatrix was willing to work on her relationship.

"Those will stop eventually," Bellatrix said quietly, earning a smile from both Harry and Alphard.

From his spot at the head of the table, Alphard silently agreed with that assessment, having spoken to Andromeda herself about the ordeal. Like Bellatrix, Andromeda also felt that the arguments would eventually cease with time, however she also knew that there would be some pushing and pulling both ways for the time being and that it would be a rocky relationship until it settled, but it would settle eventually. Additionally, unbeknownst to Bellatrix, Andromeda had relayed to Alphard how excited she was to finally reconnect with her youngest sister, whom she had always hoped would find her way in life and not become similar to the other Blacks that held onto their blood purity ideals more tightly than they did the bonds between family members. Shaking those thoughts away, Alphard dug into the dinner that he had made, happy to finally have Harry and Bellatrix visiting him again.

After dinner, Harry, Alphard, and Bellatrix made their way to the back porch to enjoy the night air, looking out at the garden and the trees as birds chirped above them. "This is warm, isn't it?" Alphard said, noticing that the lemonade was not as cold as it should have been. Alphard watched as Harry tapped his wand on the top of the bottle, cooling the butterbeer off. "Is yours warm?"

"A bit, yeah," Harry nodded, having not wanted Alphard to concern himself with it. A warm butterbeer was just as delicious as a cool one, but he just preferred to enjoy it cold since the weather was starting to warm up itself. "No big deal, though."

"No, the cooling charm on my icebox is faulty, I need to get it fixed," Alphard said, knowing that he would have to call a charms repairman sooner or later in order to get the ice box repaired.

"I can take a look at it for you," Bellatrix said, getting to her feet, wanting the practice. She knew that, if she were to make a living, it would be through charms, so she wanted to be able to perform whatever charm work that may come up in everyday life. "Cooling charms are easy."

"Thank you, my dear," Alphard smiled at his niece as she walked back into the house, leaving Harry and Alphard on the patio.

Harry watched as Bellatrix entered the house, before turning his attention back to the yard. There was a small garden pond in the corner of the yard, opposite from the large wooden shed in the back of the property, filled with fish that turned different colors, seemingly either red, yellow, or blue, except much more vibrant than any colored fish Harry had ever seen before. In body, they looked very similar to discus fish with a small hint of surgeonfish, but a tad larger, seemingly about a foot to a foot and a half in length. They were quite stunning in Harry's opinion, making the pond pop with color that meshed well with the colors of the garden surrounding it.

Alphard traced Harry's gaze, and saw that he was looking at the fish. "Those are coloredfish," He said, educating Harry on the type of fish that were in the pond, presuming Harry was curious about them. "They change colors depending on the temperature of the water—in warmer water, they're red; in temperate water, they're yellow; in cold water, they're blue. You take them out of the water, even for just a moment, they'll turn white."

"I've never heard of them," Harry said, craning his neck to get a better view of the fish inside their pond. "They remind me of Dr. Seuss."

"They were bred after the ban on experimental breeding, that's why you've probably never heard of them," Alphard replied in an amused tone, referencing the fact that the fish were illegal for the most part. "They call them the metamorphs of the water; they are some of the most powerfully magical fish in the world."

"Did you do the breeding?" Harry inquired, curious as to if Alphard had a talent with animals.

"Oh, no," Alphard shook his head in the negative, finding the idea quite amusing. "I was on holiday one time a few years ago, nearly a decade or so, and I mentioned them to Andromeda afterwards, and when she and Ted went on their honeymoon, they picked me up a small school of them and smuggled them into the country."

"That was, ah, nice of them?" Harry laughed, not really knowing how to respond to Alphard's proclamation.

"What's the point of living if you don't break the rules from time to time?" Alphard inquired with a raised eyebrow as he took a sip of his lemonade.

"Touché," grinned Harry, appreciating the idea behind what the wizard had said. "I've been known to do that; some say a bit too much."

"They were originally known as Red-Blue-Yellow fish, but they didn't want anyone to think they were connected to Red-Blue-Yellow fever, which would obviously make them less profitable." Alphard informed him, returning to the fish, recalling that the Red-Blue-Yellow fever had caused a great panic decades prior in the late 1910s, years before even he was born.

"Red-Blue-Yellow fever?" Harry questioned, not recognizing the term. He had heard about the muggle sicknesses that sounded similar to it, like yellow fever or scarlet fever, but never Red-Blue-Yellow fever. "What's that?"

"It's a magical sickness," Alphard replied, flicking his gaze over to Harry as he explained to the younger wizard what the sickness was exactly. "Muggles are immune to it. If you have it, you're stricken with a fever that turns your skin red, then it makes your body temperature drop to deathly levels that turn you blue, and then it turns you yellow, which signifies your imminent death."

Harry turned his head from the fish to Alphard, a strange look in his eyes. "How do you catch it?"

"By going to the tropics or by catching it from someone who has it," Alphard smiled, amused by Harry's seeming fear. "It only affects children and old people, never someone as lively as yourself."

"Is there a cure?" Harry asked, earning a shrug from Alphard. "That sounds awful."

Both went silent after that, each enjoying the cool spring air and the quietness of the night. "You were raised in a muggle household growing up, weren't you?" Alphard questioned, keeping his gaze on the bristling trees that circled his yard. "Not that it matters, of course, I'm just asking."

"You don't have to keep defending yourself, Alphard, I know you don't hate muggles and don't believe in blood superiority," Harry replied softly, not wanting the man to feel as if he had to justify everything that he said. He knew that Alphard was not a blood purist, even if he did not enter the muggle world all too often. "But yes, yes I was, how did you know?"

"Your ancillary knowledge of the magical world is quite poor," Alphard answered with an understanding smile, knowing that it was one of the negatives of being a muggleborn—you entered the magical world with a deficient knowledge of the magic within it. "You probably know more magic than I could ever know, most likely could perform spells I've never even heard about, but the little things about the world and wizardkind? You're lacking in comparison to someone like me. And, while not always the case, it is usually a symptom of a muggle upbringing, where you are told stories about Cinderella and Snow White, rather than Babbity Rabbity, the Warlock with a Hairy Heart or another wizarding tale."

Harry looked over to Alphard with a raised eyebrow, wondering how the older wizard had figured it out. After all, it was a quite perceptive understanding of Harry's situation. "How did you realize that?"

"Your Dr. Seuss comment," Alphard answered simply, having put it all together once he had heard Harry make that reference. While he knew that Harry was a half-blood, he knew that wasn't the entire story in regards to Harry's early life because of some things that the boy had said over the course of their time together. "I've never met a wizard that actually knew who that was that wasn't from a muggle upbringing or spent years living in the muggle world to better understand them."

"And you know who Dr. Seuss is?" Harry questioned, surprised that a pureblooded wizard such as Alphard would take the time to read a muggle author.

"I need something to occupy my time, don't I?" Alphard expressed with a laugh, making light of his lonely existence. "I'm quite fond of reading, whether it's muggle or wizarding," Alphard paused and took a sip of his drink, smacking his lips as he placed his glass back down onto the porch table next to him. "I've since evolved from my days of reading Beedle the Bard."

"Evolved to what, like Beatrix Bloxam books?" Harry joked, fully aware that many in the wizarding world found Beatrix Bloxam's stories vomit inducing at worst and nauseating at best.

"Ugh, as if," Alphard sighed, disgusted by the name, having known quite a few people in his life that had upchucked due to the witch's writings. "More like Charles Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol' or Eccentrissa Frizzle's romps around the world, but funny thing about Beedle the Bard…" He started, before being interrupted by the door opening and Bellatrix coming out onto the porch again.

"Harry, do you see what time it is?" Bellatrix said as she retook her seat next to Alphard, having been successful in her attempt to fix the cooling charm on the ice box.

"Yeah, I should get going," Harry said after realizing the time as he rose to his feet, preparing himself to leave. He placed his bottle back down on the table next to his chair, not really knowing what to do with it.

"Where are you going?" Alphard questioned from his seat, looking up at the younger wizard.

"His best friend's bachelor party," Bellatrix answered dully, as if not finding that fact amusing. "What are you guys doing?"

"All I know is that I was told to meet at the Three Broomsticks at 8 o'clock," Harry shrugged, truly having no information beyond that. "Edgar's brother is the one handling it. I'm only attending."

"Edgar?" Alphard said questioningly, seemingly knowing exactly who Harry meant by that. "Edgar Bones is your best friend?" Alphard inquired, wondering if that was the Edgar that Harry was speaking about.

"Kind of, yeah," Harry nodded, though he knew that he and Edgar had been slowly growing apart simply due to Edgar not being in Hogwarts anymore and being busy with his Order of the Phoenix duties. He knew, however, that that would swiftly change in the coming months, when Harry was out of Hogwarts and a member of the Order of the Phoenix himself, where they would be working together closely to end Voldemort's reign of terror.

"Strong wizard Edgar is," Alphard replied, seemingly approving of Harry's friend selections. He knew that Edgar was the most prodigious member of the Bones family, who themselves were an ancient and honorable wizarding clan that dated back countless of centuries and lived by the many beliefs that Harry himself carried: that everyone was equal and that goodness was unconquerable. "He comes from a powerful family, too."

Harry bent down and gave Bellatrix a hug goodbye, who whispered something in his ear that made Harry shake his head in amusement as they pulled apart. "Hey, Alphard, there is a Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks from now, why don't you come? We'll meet up for a drink, perhaps get some lunch, it'll be fun." Harry asked, looking over to the older wizard in an effort to gauge his reaction.

"You want me to come?" Alphard said, raising an eyebrow, surprised that Harry would make an offer like that. He was touched that Harry would want him around him, something that not many people would take the opportunity to offer.

"Of course," Harry said in a chipper tone, happy to have Alphard join his friends and him in Hogsmeade. After all, if that wasn't the case, he would not have asked him and would not have made mention of it. "Maybe you'll even get a chance to meet some of my friends."

"Then I will be there," Alphard smiled, inwardly thrilled that Harry seemingly wanted him in his life. While he did have a few friends, he was a rather lonely soul, not out of any disinterest, but rather because of the lack of opportunities that were presented to him as his entire family had disowned him and made no efforts to communicate with him except for Andromeda, Sirius, and Bellatrix.

"I'm looking forward to it, bye!" Harry said, before walking into the house, intending on using the Floo to travel to the Three Broomsticks. After throwing the powder down at the flames and traveling to his destination, Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks and walked further into the pub, his gaze moving around the area, searching for Edgar or Xenophilius, having no idea who else would be there.

He saw the group in the corner, which included a few people Harry did not know, along with Xenophilius, Frank Longbottom, and of course, Edgar. He made his way over to them with a large smile on his face, excited for the night. Once the introductions were made, which allowed Harry to meet Edgar's older brother for the first time, they all ordered drinks that would start the night in full, allowing Edgar's brother to explain what the night would entail in celebration of Edgar's final night as a single man. Once he heard what was planned, Harry couldn't help but smile, knowing that it would be a night to remember.

A few hours later, Harry made his way up to his room in the Leaky Cauldron, filled with memories of the night's events. It was fun, and revealing, and he knew that Edgar would enjoy the memories that they had created for a long time after he was married. They had done a lot in only a couple hours, with everyone enjoying their time throughout the various activities. In fact, the night made him so tired that as soon as his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep, dreaming about what was to come the next day.

The next day did indeed find Harry waiting in his room for Bellatrix to arrive, where they would leave together to go to Edgar's wedding. He had awoken a little before noontime, ate a small breakfast, read the paper, and then entered in the bathroom to ready himself for the wedding. He took a shower and put on the robes that he and Bellatrix had purchased two days before, and then combed his hair, happy that Dumbledore had made his hair straighter than what it normally was, allowing him to control it somewhat. There was a knock on the door ten minutes before the wedding was to start as Harry was coming out of the bathroom.

Harry swiftly crossed the room and opened the door to reveal Bellatrix, who was looked a certain way that made Harry stare for a few moments. She was wearing tight fitting robes, which hugged her figure and accentuated her curves. The robes were of a purple color, which brought out the violet color of her eyes nicely. Her black hair had a few curly locks, which cascaded over her shoulders, and framed her pretty, pointed face. Overall, to the amusement of Bellatrix who looked on with delight, Harry was unable to move his eyes off of her for what seemed like an eternity, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was cognizant that they were running a little late, she would have allowed him to continue on with his staring.

"I take it I look nice," Bellatrix whispered, earning a dumb nod from Harry, who's mouth was too agape to give a verbal response. "I'm glad." She murmured and entering the room, taking Harry's reaction as a compliment.

"You do look great," Harry said with a smile as he closed the door behind her, before he grabbed the cream colored piece of paper that served as Edgar's wedding invitation off of the desk in the corner. With a large smile still on his face, Harry held out the invitation for her to touch, and upon her hand making contact with the invitation, Harry took his wand, pointed it down at the parchment and said, "Sprung." With a pull behind their navels, they were transported to the location of the wedding via portkey, arriving at what seemed to be an open meadow with a beautiful pond off to the side that had a small wooden walkway that overlooked it. To their right, there was a large white tent, where many were gathering to enter, all talking animatedly to one another, clearly excited for the coming event.

Walking towards the entrance, they headed into the tent, where they saw dozens of round tables with yellow linens and golden chairs scattered around. There was a purple carpet that went from the entrance of the tent to the head of it, where there was a wooden altar that overlooked the pond in the distance. "Put your invitation right in here," A pleasant voice said to Harry, earning his attention. The witch pointed down to a large jug that had two openings, one rectangular opening that was just large enough to fit the invitation and another circular opening on the side of it.

"Okay," Harry grinned, placing the invitation in the jug, not really knowing what to expect. As soon as the invitation entered it, a pink fairy flew out of the hole on the side, buzzing around Harry and Bellatrix's heads.

"It'll show you to your table," The witch smiled, gesturing for Harry and Bellatrix to start walking. Harry nodded his thanks, before taking a step forward onto the purple carpet, not really knowing what to expect.

Led by the fairy, Harry and Bellatrix maneuvered through the throng of people, searching for their table on the far side of the tent. As they neared a table in the right side in the middle of the tent, they saw a small group already seated at it, and Harry grinned when he noticed that it was his group of friends—at least those that had arrived already. "Hey guys," Harry said, as he and Bellatrix came up to the table, allowing the fairy to return to the tent entrance.

"Hey Harry," Greta chimed, getting to her feet and hugging him when he came over to greet her. She was wearing a pretty green robe, emerald of color, which hung loosely off of her figure. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an intricate bun, a rare style that Harry had never seen from her before. "Bellatrix, you look pretty."

"Thanks, you do too," Bellatrix politely replied, making Greta's smile grow wider, having never expected Bellatrix to return the compliment.

"Good to see you, Milton," Harry said to Greta's date, shaking the Hufflepuff's hand. He was wearing a set of robes that were brown in color and were not ones that Harry could describe as handsome, though Milton did not seem to notice or, more likely, care.

"Oh yeah, it's been such a long time, Harry," Milton grinned playfully, referencing the fact that the break between seeing one another had been relatively short. "Have you had a good break so far?"

"I'm surprised it's over so quickly," Harry muttered with a chuckle, disappointed that his last break had passed by as swiftly as it had. To him, it had felt more like a weekend, rather than a week long holiday. "Down the homestretch, hm?"

Milton silently nodded at that, inwardly dreading the thought of his N.E.W.T.s. "Hi Bellatrix," Milton said, turning his attention to the witch with a smile, hoping that she was beginning to warm to his presence.

"Hi," Bellatrix returned, coming over to the pair to stand next to Harry. With her heels, she was just a tad taller than Harry, though because that made her the tallest one at the table, he did not seem to mind.

"I'm glad to see you two actually out together in public for once," Milton said honestly, which made Bellatrix nod her head, though Harry didn't know whether she did it because she didn't have an answer or because she actually agreed with what he had said.

"Do you guys want to sit next to us?" Greta questioned, gesturing to the two seats at the table that were next to their own. "Xenophilius and his date should be getting here very soon, so if you guys want, you should probably grab the seats before they're gone."

"Sure," Harry agreed, taking Bellatrix's hand and leading her to the other side of the table, where Milton and Greta were sitting. They were in seats that were facing the wooden altar that stood at the front of the tent, opposite to the entrance, making it easy to watch the ceremony without having to turn around or uncomfortably twist their neck.

"Harry!" A male voice came from behind Harry, making the wizard turn to see who it was. Walking up towards the table was a tall wizard and a pretty witch, each wearing fancy robes accentuated with silver pins.

"Frank!" Harry called out in a happy voice as he got to his feet, shaking the wizard's outstretched hand as the memories of the night prior came flooding into his mind. "Hello, Alice, how are you?" He smiled at the witch next to Frank, giving her a polite nod of her head. Alice smiled back and gave a wave, before walking over to the table and placing her bag that she was carrying onto an empty chair.

"Bellatrix?" Frank raised an eyebrow, looking between Harry and Bellatrix, though he did not seem as surprised as he sounded. "It's good to see you outside of duty."

"Yes, we are together," Bellatrix said evenly, answering the question he was not going to ask.

"That's fun, I had no idea," Frank smiled, winking at Harry, earning a laugh from the other wizard. While Harry had never outright said that the two were together, Frank had discussed Bellatrix with Harry a few times while they were at the Three Broomsticks so he knew that the two were close and had an idea that they were indeed more than just friends.

Just then, there was a burst of light at the head of the tent, signaling the start of the ceremony. They all took their seats just as Xenophilius and his date arrived, and turned their attention to the entrance of the tent, where Edgar had appeared for the first time, wearing handsome black robes. Along with his brother and his father, Edgar made his way to the head of the tent that held the altar, smiling and waving to everyone as he walked, clearly happy at the day finally coming. His brother stood next to him on the altar, while his father took his seat at the family table that was ten feet in front and to the left of the altar. Harry followed the man with his gaze, noticing that he had sat between his wife and his daughter, Amelia, who looked just as powerful in this time as Harry remembered.

Suddenly, the band in the corner began playing soft music and Charlotte appeared at the back of the tent, wearing a beautiful and expensive set of white robes—or so Bellatrix opined. She was flanked by two women that were wearing red robes, but it was Charlotte that had everyone's attention, their eyes entirely on her, everyone wanting to see her every move. With her friends a few steps behind her, she walked down the aisle with a bouquet of purple roses in hand, two cherubs flew in front of her, dropping red and white rose petals onto the purple carpet, lining her footsteps with every step. Seeing the cherubs, Harry instinctively thought back to the cherubs in Madame Puddifoot's, and he briefly wondered whether they were live beings or they were some form of conjurations that he did not know.

After a few moments, she arrived at the altar, and the cherubs flew off to the back of the tent, disappearing outside, their job seemingly finished. Edgar reached down and took her hands in his own, the couple facing each other with large smiles on their faces, seemingly consumed in each other's eyes. The two friends, meanwhile, took their place next to the altar, across from Edgar's brother. As the music died down, the wizard presiding over the ceremony stepped forward on the altar, standing a few feet in front of the couple with a large smile on his face and a scroll of parchment in his hands. He wore elegant white robes with gold trim and silver buttons, topped off with a white wizard hat that held a purple feather on it.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two beautiful souls," The wizard started, just as a woman at a table at the front of the tent began to sob quietly. The older man next to her reached over and wrapped his arm around her shoulders comfortingly as the official started to tell a parable. Harry imagined that the woman and the man were Charlotte's parents as the table they were at was opposite of Edgar's family table, where he supposed Charlotte's family would be sitting.

"Do you, Edgar Bones, take Charlotte to be your..." The official eventually went on, after he relayed a few parables and stories about love, dedication, and faithfulness. He then asked the same question to Charlotte, who agreed passionately. The couple then exchanged rings, as the official took out his wand for the first time. "Here before witnesses, Edgar and Charlotte have sworn their vows to each other. With this chord, I bind them to those vows." He said, as a rope jetted out of his wand and wrapped itself loosely around Edgar and Charlotte's entwined hands, linking them together forevermore. "Heart to thee, body to thee, always and forever, so let it be."

"Let it be!" The attendants erupted, standing up and starting to applaud the couple. Edgar and Charlotte embraced each other in a passionate kiss, only pulling away so they could start the celebration in full. Holding hands, they walked down the aisle as they were serenaded with cheers and congratulations, while the cherubs from before threw rice as they made their way to the tent's exit. They waved to the attendees before walking out of the tent, leaving the wedding for the time being, presumably to take pictures.

"Drinks will be going around in a few minutes, while dinner will be served soon, but until then, the dance floor is now open!" Edgar's brother said with a magically amplified voice, as the altar disappeared and in its place was a small table, with two gold plates and two sets of silver wear on it, apparently where Edgar and Charlotte would be having their dinner.

Hors d'oeuvres appeared on the golden plates in the center of the tables, making many of the guests sit back down in their seats to enjoy the food. Harry's table made light conversation, with Harry and Xenophilius discussing something, while Alice chatted with Greta and Milton. After a few minutes, Frank got up from his seat and grabbed a few drinks for the table, allowing Harry to gaze around the tent, looking at everything that he could see. There seemed to be about seventy or so people there, all dressed up in robes, not a single muggle outfit to be seen. Harry recognized some of them as members of the Order of the Phoenix, but for the most part, they were relatively unknown to him. All around the tent, bottles of champagne hovered in the air, as well as something called giggle water that Harry couldn't help but try. It tasted similarly to champagne, but made him smile and laugh with each sip.

As Harry had never been to a wedding before, he had no idea how long they usually lasted, nor any idea on whether Edgar's wedding was normal or not. Was every wedding like Edgar's, give or take some things? Or was this one above average in its elegance? Did people normally have their wedding under a tent? What about everyone being dressed in robes, was that usual? Those are things that made him realize that Alphard had been correct in his assessment of Harry's knowledge—it was limited to only things he could learn in a school book, rather than things that he had to learn through experience. Those things, the ones where he could only experience, were items that his knowledge on were grossly inadequate in comparison to his knowledge of magic, which was something he knew he would have to change in the near future.

A roar of the crowd behind him drew Harry's attention away from his thoughts, and he looked over to what had made them roar and saw that Charlotte and Edgar had reappeared. With a smile, Harry clapped his hands in congratulations, as Edgar and Charlotte greeted everyone with hand shakes and hugs as they weaved their way to their own table at the front of the tent. They stopped at every table in the mean time, saying hello and personally saying their thanks to all those that had attended. They each wore large smiles on their faces as they spoke to their guests, clearly happy to finally be married to the person they loved most in the world.

"Congratulations!" Harry said when the couple had eventually made it to their table. Harry hugged both Charlotte and Edgar, before taking a step back and allowing Greta and the rest to do the same. "You look beautiful," He commented to Charlotte, who grinned in appreciation, her throat already hoarse from all the talking.

"Thanks for coming, guys," Edgar smiled once he was finished greeting everyone, thrilled to have his friends there to celebrate his marriage. "I hope you all have a good time. I'll be back later to chat." He said, before heading over to the next table, leaving Harry and the rest for the time being.

Harry took his seat once more and grabbed a deviled egg off of the gold plate in the center of the table, taking a bite of it and enjoying the taste. "It's good to see you all," A female voice said, coming up to the table just as Harry finished swallowing.

Harry looked up and saw Professor Moonshine standing a few feet away, a happy smile on her pretty face. "Professor, fancy seeing you here," He said, rising to his feet to talk to her. She was wearing nicely tailored floral pattern robes, pink in color with red and white accents. Her hair was curled and cascaded over her shoulders, reaching to the center of her back. For the next ten minutes or so, Harry and Moonshine made idle conversation, Bellatrix coming to join in halfway through, before returning to their respective tables, wanting to enjoy the various foods that were being dished out.

"So…last night was fun, wasn't it?" Frank questioned Harry as he sat back down, giving the wizard a small, mysterious smile.

"Don't remind me," Harry laughed, unable to bring himself to talk about the previous night's events. To him, they were memories for those that had attended, not stories to tell, though even he had to admit to himself the likelihood that he would be telling them far in the future.

"You won't tell me, either?" Alice said exasperatedly, entering the conversation in the hopes that Harry would relay the story to her. "All day he's kept mum on what you all did, was it really that bad?"

"I doubt I'll be forgetting it anytime soon," Frank replied easily, earning another laugh from Harry. "Trust me, you don't want to know." He said, leaning over and giving Alice a kiss on the cheek, as Bellatrix raised a questioning eyebrow at Harry, who made a motion on his lips as if it was a zipper.

Eventually, the dinner was served. It was a simple quail dish, but it was delicious to Harry's palate nonetheless. They enjoyed the meal for newly a half an hour, and once the table was completed, Harry, Bellatrix, and the rest all exited the tent and walked down the grassy knoll outside of the tent in order to view the pond, eventually being joined by Alice and Frank, who had also left to enjoy the pond below the tent. Greta, Milton, and Xenophilius and his date were a few yards away, before they turned and walked back to the tent to grab a drink, leaving Harry and the rest.

"What are you guys talking about?" A voice came from behind them as Edgar walked up to join them in the conversation.

"The war," Harry shrugged, turning his attention to the wizard, inwardly wondering why he wasn't back in the tent with all of the other guests.

Edgar nodded in understanding as he took his place in between Harry and Alice as they all leaned over the rail that guarded against anyone falling into the lake. "I'm just happy that this went uninterrupted," He said, taking a sip of his drink as the five looked out across the lake.

"So you did fear that it would?" Frank questioned, having assumed that Edgar had prevented it in some way. He knew that the Death Eaters liked attacking places that were busy, mostly Diagon Alley and quidditch stadiums, so it was not a surprise to him to learn that Edgar was worried about such actions.

"It's the reason why we paid a bundle of galleons to have the invitations turned into portkeys, to make sure that the location stayed a secret," Edgar agreed, giving out a loud sigh, though Harry didn't know whether it was of relief or a sign of mounting tension. "The next few months can't come soon enough. Our side needs the caliber of wizards and witches that you four represent. You'll be a big boon."

"Soon enough," Harry said, knowing that it was almost time to take his spot in the war against Voldemort, something he probably should have done months prior but instead had stayed true to Dumbledore's wishes. He still wasn't completely sure why Dumbledore was hesitant to use him, to use the information that he had carried from the future, but he was willing to give the aged wizard the benefit of the doubt for the time being.

"Save for perhaps Dolohov, I'm not sure Voldemort has anybody in his service that could match you guys," said Edgar, unsurprised that no one in the group flinched at the mention of the name. "Some of the best duellists I've ever seen, each of you, and you all would have probably been the finalists in that duelling tournament last year if Alice had been in Hufflepuff. I still can't believe Otto Bagman was their representative."

"I don't get that, there are so many great witches and wizards on our side, yet the Death Eaters still stand," Alice replied, shaking her head in confusion, not understanding that notion. To her, the idea that a select few dark wizards could sow so much terror and discord was absurd since there were countless of wizards and witches that were better than the Death Eaters, each of whom were fighting against them with all of their abilities.

"Because Voldemort is nearly the best wizard in existence," Edgar answered, taking another sip of his champagne from the flute that he was holding in his hand. "There's a reason why Dumbledore has not captured Voldemort yet: because he can't. Or, if he could, he probably would have done it by now. And, honestly, people's skills at magic rot after they leave Hogwarts, become mediocre, which leaves them open for attack by the more battle hardened Death Eaters, making it tougher for our side."

"I just want to leave Hogwarts already so I can start protecting all of my friends, so I can make sure that everyone I care about back in that tent don't have to fight," Harry whispered, not necessarily agreeing with Edgar's assessment that Dumbledore couldn't capture Voldemort but he wasn't about to argue against it on Edgar's wedding day. "These next few months are going to be the slowest moving of them all."

"Edgar!" Charlotte's voice suddenly called out from the entrance to the tent, a little less than thirty yards away. She stood just a few steps away from the tent, looking down at the entire group, knowing that they would have to come back up in order to continue on with the wedding festivities. "They're bringing out the cake!"

"I guess it's time to return," Edgar murmured, turning around and starting the walk to the tent with a smile on his face. His concerns about the war retreated to the back of his mind at the sight of his new bride, as the happiness that the day brought to him welled up inside of his chest, making him forget about the world's troubles for the time being.

Alice, Frank, and Harry all turned to return to the tent as well, but Bellatrix was the last to react. "You coming?" Harry asked, tapping her on the arm in an effort to gain her attention. He noticed that she had a strange look on her face, a pensive expression, as if she was deep in thought, though Harry did not know what plagued her mind.

Bellatrix kept her gaze on the lake for a few more lingering seconds, before giving a nod and smiling at Harry. "Yeah," She said, holding her arm out for him to take. "Shall we?" She questioned, entwining her arm with his and leading him back to the tent.

After the cake was served and enjoyed by all, the rest of the night was spent dancing, laughing, and having a good time. Edgar and Charlotte had spent much of their time at Harry's table, apparently wanting to enjoy their time with Harry and the rest before they disappeared for the night, which they inevitably did about an hour before the wedding was scheduled to end. While Bellatrix was quiet at the table, apparently still uncomfortable with being around Harry's friends, she had done well in interacting with the people around her, clearly making the effort to follow through with her promise, which made Harry especially happy. Overall, as Harry looked back on the wedding a few days later while on the train ride back to Hogwarts, it was a great night, one that he would remember for a very long time.

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all the readers out there. I hope you have, or have had in the case of many, a wonderful holiday season, regardless of what you celebrate.


End file.
